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“I’m Doctor Garde’s little girl.”— Pa^e 11 




ROCKY FORK 


BY 

MARY HARTWELL CATHERWOOD 


ILLUSTRATED BY FRANK T. MERRILL 


NEW EDITION 



BOSTON 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 



Copyright^ 1911^ 

By Lothkop, Lee and Shepard Co. 
All rights reserved 


K 



Electrotyped and Printed by 
THE COLONIAL PRESS 
C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, V.S.A. 


(g:ci.A:^b37'.)3 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTBB 

I. 

Doctor Garde’s Little Girl . 

PAGE 

9 

II. 

Mr. Pitzer 

19 

III. 

The Geography-school Teacher 

25 

IV. 

Company 

36 

V. 

The Geography School . 

56 

VI. 

The Narrows and Mary Ann 
Furnace 

73 

VII. 

Miss Melissa Further Disapproves 
OF THE Rocky Fork . 

84 

VIII. 

Which Treats of Thumb-papers . 

101 

IX. 

They Churn 

108 

X. 

Mother Outdoors Disturbed 

115 

XI. 

Bluebell Makes a Poem 

127 

XII. 

Jordan Stormy Banks ” 

139 

XIII. 

Abram Has a Theory 

152 

XIV. 

Bluebell Has No Theory 

163 

XV. 

The Ford 

169 

XVI. 

A Trio and Chorus .... 

173 

XVII. 

Doctor Garde Listens to Reason 

186 

XVIII. 

Bluebell and Tildy .... 

199 


VI 


CONTENTS 


chapter 


PAGE 

XIX. 

The Child in the Blackberry 



Patch 

207 

XX. 

The Last Time 

215 

XXI. 

The First Railroad Train . 

230 

XXII. 

Miss Biggar 

245 

XXIII. 

A Duck among Swans 

252 

XXIV. 

Miss Melissa Drops a Few Hints . 

263 

XXV. 

Events 

271 

XXVI. 

Miss Biggar’s Possessions 

288 

XXVII. 

Dinner in Doll-land 

297 

XXVIII. 

Somebody Arrives .... 

305 

XXIX. 

Doctor Garde’s Little Girl . 

312 

XXX. 

Two Letters 

319 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Fm Doctor Garde’s little girl” {page 11) 

Frontispiece ^ 

FACING PAGE 

“ Here’s a wax doll for you ” . . . . 46 ^ 

The principal figures in a procession to 

THE SCHOOLHOUSE 110»^ 

Liza stepped back, drawing her roll off 

THE SPINDLE INTO A LONG WOOLLY THREAD . 134 ^ 

“ I SEIZED HIS BRIDLE AND TRIED TO LEAD HIM 

out” 184'^ 

The performer played some little march . 254 






CHAPTER I 


DOCTOE GAKDE^S LITTLE GIBL 

11/rANY years ago the morning snn looked 
down among the tall hills of central Ohio, 
and saw one little girl patting along a path. 
The path wound down through a hollow, and 
up, up over wood-clothed heights which she 
thought nearly touched the sky. 

At first glance this little girl appeared to be 
a large slat sun-bonnet taking a walk on a pair 
9 



10 


EOCKY FOEK 


of long pantalettes. But at second glance one 
brown, thin arm escaped from a short sleeve 
might have been seen carrying a calico bag 
by its dr a wing- string; and under the panta- 
lettes a pair of stout-shod little feet skipped 
along. 

It was not more than seven o ’clock. The tall 
meadow grass was glittering, and every bird 
known to the State was singing with his morn- 
ing voice. When she reached the small run 
which twisted along the hollow, and put her 
foot on the first of the stepping-stones which 
crossed it, the little girl could not help stopping 
to gaze in the water. The minnows played 
around the stone with a quiver of their tiny 
bodies which fascinated the gazer. She stooped 
cautiously and tried to catch one in her hand, 
but sunshine on the pebbles was not more elu- 
sive. 

Good morning, little girl,” said a winning 
voice ; and the little girl jumped up, reeled, set 
one foot in the water, and brandished her reti- 
cule in the effort to regain her balance. The 
sugared butter-bread and sweet cookies tum- 
bled against currant-pie and cherries, and all 


DOCTOR GARDE’S LITTLE GIRL 11 


settled to an upside-down condition as she 
finally got on the bank and saw a gentleman 
preparing to trip across the stones. 

It was an uncommon thing to meet any one, 
and especially a stranger, on that long two- 
mile path to school. But it was a wonderful 
thing to meet such a grand stranger. She 
dropped a bobbing curtsy, and the gentleman, 
having crossed, stopped and smiled. He had 
glittering black eyes, and curly hair and whisk- 
ers, glittering teeth and boots, fine clothes, and 
altogether the look of a town gentleman.” 

Whose little girl are you I ” inquired this 
town gentleman atfably, rubbing the wet soles 
of his boots on the grass. 

Under the long slat sun-bonnet a round face 
blushed all about its blue eyes and quite back 
to its auburn hair, and a timid voice piped from 
the calico funnel: I’m Doctor Garde’s little 
girl.” 

‘ ‘ Ah ! where does Doctor Garde live 1 ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Right back there in that big house. ’ ’ 

‘‘ And who lives in this house I just passed? ” 
Mrs. Banks. Her little girls go to school 
with me.” 


12 


EOCKY FORK 


Yes. And where do you go to school? ’’ 
In the school-house Vay at the other side 
of the hills. ’ ^ 

‘ ‘ Oho ! many children go there ? ’ ’ 

‘‘ All of ’em in our districk. There’s WiU- 
eys, and Pancosts, and Harrises, and Halls, 
and Bankses, and Martins, and me, and my 
little sister’s going when she gets big enough.” 

Yes. Well, thank you. I may call there 
in the course of the day. Hoes that path lead 
back to your school-house? ” 

‘‘Yes, sir. But you must turn to the right 
at the big sand-banks, and cross the foot-log 
over Rocky Fork by Hall’s mill.” 

The gentleman nodded, and passed on smi- 
ling as Doctor Garde’s little girl dropped him 
another curtsy. She skipped across the stones 
and hastened up rising ground to the Banks’. 
Theirs was a weather-beaten domicile, part log 
and part frame, with a covered stoop at one 
door on which Tildy sat plaiting her long hair 
preparatory to going to school. 

Tildy, it must be confessed, was a raw-boned 
girl, but with a low-browed, serious face. Her 
nature leaned to the solemn side of life, as her 


DOCTOR GARDE’S LITTLE GIRL 13 


sister Teeny’s leaned towards what was merry. 
Matilda liked to sit in the grass and dress her 
locks, or to watch from the doorstep the rocks 
and glooms on each side of her home. 

Teeny appeared within, tying her bonnet, the 
string of her reticule across her arm. A bunch 
of old-fashioned pink roses was pinned to her 
dress, which hooked in front and was just long 
enough to sweep her heels when she walked. 
Teeny was a big girl who felt quite a young 
woman, since she was going on ” fifteen, 
ciphered in long division, and had finished a 
sampler with her name, Christine Banks,” 
embroidered under a beautiful piece of poetry. 
<< We’re takin’ curran’-pie for our dinner to- 
day, Melissy,” announced Tildy solemnly as 
Doctor Garde’s little girl ran up. 

‘‘ I got some, too,” she responded with tri- 
umph. So little made a triumph in that region 
and time. 

‘‘ ’Tain’t sweetened with sugar.” 

’Tis, too! I saw Liza put in heaps.” She 
sat down on the steps and explored her reti- 
cule. There was rather a sorry mess in its 
depths, but the slices of bread were reduced 


14 


EOCKY FOEK 


again to their proper basis, and the other good- 
ies piled carefully on them. 

AVhy don^t you call me Bluebell? she 
suggested with a rather hopeless accent. 

’Cause that ain’t your name,” said Tildy, 
strictly. 

I guess my father always calls me that.” 

‘‘ ’Tain’t your name, anyhow. Your name 
is Melissy Jane Garde, goin’ on eight years 
old.” 

It’s just Melissy,” cried the younger, dog- 
gedly, as if she would like to disown that. 

‘‘ My mother called me Bluebell, too, and 
she’s gone to heaven. I sh’d think you might 
call me what my mother called me.” 

‘‘ Your name’s Melissy,” repeated Tildy, 
looking with undisturbed eyes upon the dis- 
tance. Here the argument dropped, as it usu- 
ally did. The defeated party turned to other 
things. 

I pretty near fell in the run. The’ was a 
man come along and scared me so. He was 
prettier than my father! ” exclaimed Melissa, 
pausing after this climax; that is, dressed 
up prettier; and he said he was coming to 


DOCTOR GARDE’S LITTLE GIRL 15 


school to-day. I wonder what he’s coming 
there for? ” 

‘‘ Prob’ly it’s somebody the directors is 
sending to whip us, ’ ’ opined Matilda with seri- 
ous resignation. They say Mr. Pitzer ain’t 
strict enough.” 

Oh, do you s’pose it is? ” cried the credu- 
lous little girl beside her. I never got 
whipped at school yet. ’ ’ 

Now, Tildy,” exclaimed the pink-faced el- 
der sister, stepping out, if you don’t hurry 
up we ’ll go on and leave you. ’ ’ 

I think I’ll stay at home,” said Tildy, re- 
flecting on the fine stranger’s probable errand. 

‘‘No, you won’t,” cried her mother’s voice 
from an inner room, making a pause in the 
monotonous rattle of a loom; and though it 
was a plaintive voice and not very decided, 
Tildy was moved by it to get her sun-bonnet 
and follow the other two. They were making 
a round of the garden, to gather pinks, holly- 
hocks, bouncing-betties, bachelor-buttons, and 
asparagus sprays. Having tied up a bunch 
apiece, they left the house and began their root- 
matted and rocky ascent. There were levels 


16 


EOCKY FOEK 


above where the woods made a twilight at noon, 
where ferns crowded to their knees, and some 
stood as high as their waists. Who could help 
stopping to inhale that breath which is no 
plant ^s but a fern^s? 

There ^s vinegar-balls on this oak,’’ re- 
marked Tildy, casting her eyes up as they 
passed under a dark-leaved tree. So, sticks 
and climbing being brought to bear upon the 
tree, one or two small apple- shaped bunches 
were brought down to yield a tart juice to suck- 
ing lips. I do not pretend to say the balls were 
wholesome. But the same lips loved the white, 
honey-filled ends of clover-blossoms, tender 
sticks of sweet-briar when stripped of its skin, 
and they doted on mountain-tea,” a winter- 
green of three rich fleshy leaves, which clung 
all over these heights in fragrant mats. The 
three girls were lovers of Mother Outdoors. 
Melissa especially gloried in the woods. The 
noble tree arches, the dew, and sweet earth- 
smell filled her with worshipping joy. It was 
so nice to be a little girl with a sun-bonnet 
hanging ofiF her shoulders by the strings, and 
the great woods cooling her face, and sighing 


DOCTOE GAEDE’S LITTLE GIEL 17 


away off as if thinking np some song to sing 
to her ! 

In due course they came to three giant ridges 
of sand. These stood in a clear place, and 
nobody in that region troubled himself about 
the geological cause of their existence in the 
heart of the woods. There they were, too 
tempting to be resisted. Melissa dropped her 
reticule, Tildy seriously followed her example, 
and Christine forgot her dress hooking in front 
and her claims to big girlhood. All three 
mounted the dunes, sat down, gathered their 
clothing close about their feet, and shot down 
the sides as if on invisible sleds. This queer 
sort of coasting was great fun. When it 
seemed expedient to adjourn, they shook the 
clean sand from their dresses, and the eldest 
and youngest untied their low shoes to turn 
them upside down. Matilda being barefoot 
and therefore free from such civilized cares, 
improved the time by taking an extra slide, 
which was too much for the other girls, so they 
tried it again. 

Thus the morning waxed later. So by the 
time they crossed the foot-log over Eocky Fork 


18 


EOCKY FORK 


and approached the log school-house, ‘ ^ books ’ ’ 
were actually taken up/’ 

The school-house was chinked with clay and 
had double doors which opened close beside a 
travelled road. The woods and heights rose 
behind it, and at one side a sweep of play- 
ground extended into a viney hollow where 
hung the grape-vine swing for which all the 
girls in school daily brought pocketfuls of 
string. 


CHAPTER II 


ME. PITZEB 

^HRISTINE stepped over the threshold and 
dropped a curtsy which dipped her dress 
in the dust. Matilda followed and was taken 
with a similar convulsion on the same spot. 
Then the smallest bobbed violently; all this 
homage being paid to a somewhat threadbare 
man who sat behind a high desk opposite the 
door. 

Continuous high desks on a raised platform 
extended around the walls, and continuous 
benches ran in front of them. Here sat the 
elders of the school — the big boys and girls, 
with their backs to smaller fry who camped on 
long benches set along the middle of the floor, 
swinging their heels and holding spellers in 
their hands. The benches were made of split 
logs, the flat sides planed smooth, and the 
round sides bored with holes into which legs 
were stuck; as these legs were not always even, 
19 


20 


EOCKY FOEK 


boys at opposite ends of a bench could teeter- 
totter ’ ’ the whole row of urchins between them. 
There were no backs against which you might 
rest your shoulders, but any tired little fellow 
might lie down if he took his own risks about 
rolling off. There had been teachers w'ho 
would not allow the muscles thus to relax. But 
Mr. Pitzer was a kind, soft-hearted old man, 
who, as Matilda has hinted, was not considered 
strict enough. He had taught the school many 
seasons. 

The directors said he might do for summer, 
but each winter they determined to engage 
some strapping modern pedagogue who could 
control the young men and wild young women 
who sallied knowledge-ward during the long 
term. Still Mr. Pitzer was found in his place. 
He taught manners and morals as well as the 
common branches, and his sweet, severe face 
under iron- gray hair became stamped on every 
mind that entered the double doors. 

The tardy pupils, unchallenged, hung their 
bonnets and dinner-bags on nails in the wall. 
Teeny took her big-girls’ seat, and straightway 
lay flat on her desk in the agonies of writing 


MR. PITZER 


21 


a morning copy, while the other two sat side 
by side on a bench murmuring the first reading- 
lesson. A hum like the music of many hives 
sounded all over the room. “ D-i-s — dis, 
d-a-i-n, dain, disdain,’’ crossed in-com-pat- 
i-bil-i-ty; ” and the important scratching of 
slate-pencils in the hands of ciphering big boys, 
seemed to supplement a breathing and occa- 
sional sputter of quill pens. 

Second Reader may stand up! ” cried the 
master. 

Bluebell’s class, including her tall friend 
Matilda, formed in a row in front of the mas- 
ter’s desk, each holding his reader clinched 
before his face. 

A polished walnut ferule lay at Mr. Pitzer’s 
hand, and the text-book sprawled on the desk. 
He wore spectacles of so slight an iron frame 
that the glasses seemed suspended miracu- 
lously between his stern eyes and the eyes 
turned up to him. Like a commander giving 
some military order, he now cried out: At- 
tention! ” 

At the signal every girl dipped low and every 
boy bent forward with a bow. It would have 


22 


EOCKY FOEK 


been a misdemeanor for the girls to bow and 
the boys to curtsy, and they knew it. Then the 
boy at the top of the class began to read in a 
voice which could be heard on the opposite side 
of the road; he was followed by a timid little 
girl who put her nose close to the book and 
spelled and whispered; and she in turn by a 
merry girl who had been put back from the 
Third Eeader when the master was cross, for 
pronouncing ships wrecked, shipses rick-ed.’’ 
Very little did she care, for, knowing the Sec- 
ond Eeader by heart, it was easy for her to 
rattle off the story of The Three Boys and the 
Three Cakes, with a moral. Bluebell read in 
a clear, sensitive, appreciative voice, and Tildy 
followed. They spelled the words which the 
master pronounced to them, and had another 
lesson set. The military order was then va- 
ried: 

‘ ^ Obedience ! ’ ’ 

At this they saluted as before, and took their 
seats. 

Business went on as usual. The large girls 
recited in smart, high voices, and the boys blun- 
dered in monotone, excepting little Joe Hall, 


MR. PITZER 


23 


who was such a mite of a fellow, yet so smart 
that he knew almost as much as the master. 
Joe had ciphered farther into the jungles of 
arithmetic than anybody else, and could parse 
as fast as his tongue would run. He always 
had his atlas lessons, and some said had been 
clear through the geography, while his writing 
was so wonderful that the master sometimes 
let him set copies when he himself was very 
busy. 

^ ‘ Somethin ^s the matter with the master this 
morninV^ whispered Tildy to Bluebell, as they 
wriggled around trying to rest their backs. 

It was true. He stalked about with his hands 
under his coat-tails, sticking his under lip out. 
Even Joe HalPs grandiloquent rendering of 
Fourth Reader text could not draw his mind 
from some internal strain; and after recess 
the trouble came out. 

Mr. Pitzer read the rules of the school. 
Whenever he had heard complaint, he brought 
out those ponderous rules and visited them 
upon the pupils that they might know what he 
required of them, even if he did not exact it. 
Every listener, except the new or very dull ones, 


24 


EOCKY FORK 


knew these rules by heart. They were written 
on tall cap sheets in the best of flourishes, and 
covered the whole duty of boy and girl. 

To-day the master read them with frowns 
and a sonorous voice. 

‘‘ Aeticle Thirteenth!’’ he thundered at 
last; Every hoy or girl in going to or from 
school shall treat with civility all persons whom 
they meet upon the highway, he or she making 
a how or a curtsy as the case may he. It shall 
he a high misdemeanor to treat impolitely any 
stranger or strangers in the schoolroom, or the 
play -ground, or the highway.’’ 

And here as if to test Mr. Pitzer’s pupils in 
their behavior, a strange man did step over the 
threshold, taking otf his hat as he did so. 

The schoolmaster stopped and glared. But 
Bluebell’s heart came into her mouth. She felt 
unreasonably terrified and trapped by fate. 
For it was the curly, glittering gentleman who 
had promised to come to the school-house, pos- 
sibly on that dread errand suggested by Tildy 
— to whip the whole school ! 


CHAPTEE III 


THE GEOGEAPHY-SCHOOL TEACHEB 

It/TAY I have a few minutes’ conversation 
with you! ” said the fine stranger to 
Mr. Pitzer. The schoolmaster bowed stiffly, 
said Certainly, sir,” with some pomp, and 
came forward. He evidently felt distrust, not 
to say hostility; but after Aeticle Thie- 
TEENTH, he was bound to set the school an 
example in politeness. 

There was a stricture around Bluebell’s 
heart while she watched them talking in low 
tones near the door. The stranger was pliant, 
eager and voluble. Oh, how he did want to get 
at them all with his stick! Would Mr. Pitzer 
give them over to such shame and pain! She 
reflected about the black ripe cherries in her 
reticule, and wished she had propitiated the 
good old man by giving them to him at recess. 
The school stopped droning, and held its 
breath, just as the earth does before a storm, 
to catch some hint of this colloquy. Mr. Pitzer 
26 


26 


EOCKY FOEK 


seemed more and more mellowed to the man’s 
proposals. The curves of his stern face turned 
upwards; he nodded his head at the end of 
every sentence; and finally, leading the way 
to his high desk, he told the school that Mr. 
Eunnels had something important to impart to 
them. 

Bluebell shut her eyes, and cowered. Little 
Joe Hall sat bolt-upright, and all the big schol- 
ars turned around on their seats. 

He’s going to begin with them on this 
bench, ’ ’ whispered Tildy to Bluebell. Mr. Eun- 
nels smiled with his teeth and picked up the 
ferule. 

Oh, how earth brightened again as his busi- 
ness unfolded ! The faint, worm-eaten odor of 
the glass-smooth bench which she clutched, 
seemed quainter to Bluebell than ever before. 
She had heard the Fourth Eeader class sing 
out the tale of Ginevra ; and that chest, 

carved by Antony of Trent,” had just such 
an indescribable, pungent smell, she felt cer- 
tain, as the desk and seats of this school-house. 
It had always given her a pleasant sensation; 
it now added to her joy; her heart expanded; 


THE GEOGRAPHY TEACHER 27 


Mr. Runnels was a very nice man. He did not 
even hint that a school ought to be whipped 
wholesale; Tildy Banks didn’t know anything 
about it. His errand was to organize a geog- 
raphy-school ! 

The method,” said Mr. Runnels, is alto- 
gether new. I have a fine and complete set of 
painted maps representing every part of the 
earth’s surface, and the exercise of storing the 
mind with this important science is not only 
vastly improving, but novel and delightful. All 
of you speak to your parents. The charge is 
trifling, but the benefit will be lasting. Every- 
body is invited free to the organization of the 
school to-night at Harris’s chapel west of this 
school-house. All the boys and girls and young 
people of the next district will be there. So 
don’t fail to urge your parents to bring you. 
So many bright eyes,” said Mr. Runnels with 
a charming smile — 

The school giggled with delight — 

— ‘‘so many intelligent faces, instructed by 
a wise, kind master — ” 

Mr. Pitzer straightened his back and smiled 
around — 


28 


EOCKY FOEK 


— ‘‘must surely take an interest in this 
beautiful globe on which we live. ’ ’ 

Mr. Eunnels went on and gave them a short 
lecture on geography. He told them anecdotes 
of that ignoramus who did not believe the 
world was round and turned on its axis, be- 
cause, if this were the case, his father’s mill- 
pond would spill all its water. The children 
laughed uproariously, though few of them had 
ever thought of the earth except as an ex- 
panse of rocks, trees and robe-like sward, cleft 
by the Eocky Fork. 

Mr. Pitzer and the geography teacher parted 
with ceremonious bows. The schoolmaster 
himself made a few cautious remarks to cool 
his own enthusiasm; but the next class, which 
was the grave elders’ arithmetic, constantly 
broke out with fractional questions about a 
different science. 

At last the sun had retreated from the mid- 
dle of the floor to the very door-sill. By this 
token they knew it was high noon. Spellers 
were laid straight on the benches around the 
wall, desk lids were shut down over their mis- 
cellany. Eyes looked expectantly at the mas- 


THE GEOGRAPHY TEACHER 29 


ter, and all arms were folded. He uttered one 
magic word: Dismissed! 

The school seemed to turn a complete somer- 
sault: every child projected himself like an 
arrow toward the door, whooping, singing, 
scampering and tumbling. Chaos surged to the 
brown wooden joists. Some nimble little boys 
got on the desks and galloped around, while 
others slipped out through the windows, which 
were set sidewise instead of lengthwise in the 
log walls, looking like windows that had lain 
down to dream. The master, swinging a thick 
wooden cane, walked to his house which was 
near. It might confer distinction to go home 
to one’s dinner, but this distinction was not 
courted even by children who lived in sight. 
Could anything be more delightful than that 
noon hour ! Was it only an hour — that time 
stutfed full of events as a month? It was the 
kernel of all day, at any rate. 

Bluebell and Tildy went to their playhouse 
to eat dinner. This summer residence was 
formed by a triplet of trees growing so close 
together as to form a deep alcove. The floor 
was carpeted thick with moss which Bluebell 


30 


EOCKY FOEK 


and Tildy changed every few days. They had 
some gnarly chairs, which you might have 
called chunks. Hanging their sun-bonnets up 
on scales of bark, they ate their dinners in so- 
ciety, much as foreign people attend the thea- 
tre. For all about them were similar boxes, or 
residences, whose occupants visited, and ex- 
changed samples from each others’ reticules, 
so what was cooked on one side of the district 
was tested on the other side. 

Amanda .Willey and Perintha Pancost 
knocked at the bark door of Misses Garde and 
Banks, and were bidden to come right in and 
take chairs. The residence being already com- 
fortably full, however, and no chairs visible, 
they stayed outside and took grass, which was 
far more comfortable. Tildy and Perintha 
swapped a fragment of cherry-pie and a bit 
of rather stale cake, while Amanda gave Blue- 
bell a piece of her cheese for some cherries. 
These were grave transactions, each party ex- 
amining what she received with due caution, 
excepting Bluebell, who was willing to fling her 
repast right and left without considering 
whether she got its equivalent or not. Amanda 


THE GEOGRAPHY TEACHER 31 


Willey was a large-faced, smiling girl with very 
smooth hair cut short around her neck. Over 
her ordinary dress she wore a long-sleeved pink 
sack, and a pink apron tied about the waist like 
a grown woman’s. The costume was most 
pleasing in Bluebell’s eyes. 

I got a black-silk apron,” she observed, 
smoothing and patting Amanda’s drapery. 

I’m going to ask Liza to let me wear it to 
geography school.” 

‘‘I’m going,” exclaimed Perintha Pancost. 
“ The man’s to board at our house. He had 
his breakfast there.” 

“ I ain’t,” said Tildy. “ He looks like a 
raskil. Mebby he’s come down here to rob 
folks.” 

The blue eyes, brown eyes and hazel eyes 
around her stood out at this suggestion. Tildy 
spoke as if her acquaintance with rascals was 
thorough. 

“ I don’t think that’s very smart of you. Till 
Banks,” said Perintha, the hostess of the 
“ raskil.” “ My pa and ma don’t have robbers 
at our house. He’s the pertiest kind of a man. 
I like him.” 


32 


EOCKY FOEK 


‘‘ So do decided Bluebell with a sigh of 
relief. Her credulous nature had been stag- 
gered by Matilda. 111 take my Noey’s Ark 
book to read in geography school.’’ 

The boys, having swallowed their dinners, 
were already shouting at ‘‘ Bull in the Pen,” 
when the girls gathered to take turns at the 
swing. How sweet these allotted ten or a dozen 
rushes through the air were, with some swift- 
footed girl running under you to send you up 
among the branches ! The glee with which you 
grabbed a leaf, your slow reluctance in let- 
ting the old cat die, ’ ’ and another succeed you ! 
The number of games of ‘ ‘ Black Man, ” ‘ ‘ Poi- 
son,” Base,” which can be crowded into one 
noon, has never been computed. Every muscle 
is strained, the hair clings to pink foreheads, 
lungs and hearts work like engines, and the 
outdoor world is too sweet to be given up when 
that rattle of the master’s ferule against the 
window sash is supplemented by the stem call 
of Books ! ” 

Drenclied in the dew of health, every little 
body rushed again to the hard benches. Blue- 
bell told herself that she always liked after- 


THE GEOGRAPHY TEACHER 33 


noon, it seemed so short; and as the sun 
stooped lower and lower, a lump of homesick- 
ness grew in her for the old weather-stained 
house, her father’s return from his daily 
rounds, and the baby’s tow head and black 
eyes which were sure to meet her at the lower 
bars. Then there was the spelling-class which 
crowned every day’s labor. Orthography may 
not be the most important element of educa- 
tion, but Bluebell thought it was, and she had 
a genius for it. While Tildy swung sleepy legs. 
Bluebell mentally counted her own head- 
marks,” and speculated on what the master’s 
olfered prize might be at the end of the term. 
Classes succeeded each other, and the sweet 
dream-producing hum went on, until Bluebell 
found herself again going triumphantly down 
foot,” having scored still another head-mark. 

Then the roll was called, while reticules, bon- 
nets and caps were slyly gathered otf their 
pegs and passed from hand to hand, that no one 
might keep the others waiting. Joe Hall re- 
sponded to his name with a shout, while 
Amanda Willey’s voice could scarcely be 
heard; some pupils answered half a day; ” 


34 


EOCKY FORK 


and for others there was a hurried cry of ab- 
sent/’ not always correct, as in the case of 
John Tegarden, who shook fist and head many 
times at Joe Hall for shouting absent to his 
name when he was there in the body. Joe 
ducked his shoulders, and intimated by lifting 
his eyebrows, grimacing and nodding, that this 
was an oversight on his part. And John was 
obliged to carry his grievance outdoors, as he 
was the first boy on his bench. Dinner-bag and 
cap in hand, he stopped at the door to scrape 
and say Good-evening! ” to the master, re- 
ceiving a stately Good-evening ” in return. 
Thus one by one they filed out, each child stop- 
ping to make that grave salutation, until the 
master was free to close the double doors and 
fasten them with chain and padlock. 

It was more than two hours till sunset; but 
there were long shadows in the woods, and an 
evening coolness was stealing over the beauti- 
ful earth. 

The Rocky Fork foaming over boulders or 
spreading into still pools at the feet of leaning 
trees, shaded, variable, but clear as spring 
water, cut the home path in two, and was 


THE GEOGRAPHY TEACHER 35 


spanned by a foot-log. The wheel of Hall’s 
mill turned lazily here, and the mill-race made 
Bluebell’s brain unsteady. Not so the shady 
pebbles in the stream. She sat and watched 
them after crossing until Tildy’s voice up the 
ascent gave her warning to hurry. 

All the country was in that afterglow of sun- 
set when she reached the pasture-bars behind 
the house. And of course there was the little 
sister at the bars, her curly tow hair dovetailed 
at the back, her black eyes spread and both 
white claws clinging around the wood. 

Some tump’ny’s turn! ” she cried. 


CHAPTER IV 


COMPANY 

rpHE announcement that there was company 
did not prevent Bluebell from climbing the 
bars and giving Roxy a warm hug, but rather 
added strength to the embrace. 

You little darling, it’s been so long since 
I saw you! Ear-ly this morning sisser went 
away. Who’s come? Hope it isn’t somebody 
that’ll keep us from playing and having a 
good time.” 

The tow-headed sister spread her nervous 
little hands and attempted description while 
trotting along. 

Lady with turls: nice, nice lady! ” 

Is father home? ” 

No.” 

Doesn’t Liza know who she is? ” 

“ No. Liza say, ‘ Take off your fings. Doc- 
tor be home pretty soon.’ ” 

‘‘Oh! It’s somebody to be doctored.” 


COMPANY 


37 


It^s tmnp’ny! urged Eocco. We goin’ 
to have plum p ’serves for supper. ’ ’ 

This settled it. Liza was a discriminating 
housekeeper who did not regale calling pa- 
tients with her best preserves. The doctor’s 
house was also his office where people came 
for medicines or treatment, and the Eocky 
Forkers were willing to make it a free hotel; 
but Liza was not. 

Liza had been spinster mistress of the house 
for twenty-five years. Her mother died only 
the year before her cousin, Doctor Garde, and 
his orphans came, and the short, plump, merry, 
quick old maid had taken care of her mother 
for a long time. She liked taking care of peo- 
ple. It was really for the privilege of taking 
care of the children that she rented her prem- 
ises to her cousin. He came with two babies, 
and a new medical diploma to build up a prac- 
tice among the hills, and threw himself en- 
tirely into work, leaving Liza to bring up the 
children as she saw best. She was a woman 
with a wholesome soul, and they all got on 
comfortably. While she thought the doctor 
remarkable in his profession^ and felt pride in 


38 


ROCKY FORK 


his cases and cures, outside of that, being con- 
siderably his senior, she took the attitude of 
a protecting aunt. 

To-night the children saw her standing in 
the back door, looking comely and important, 
her black hair sleeked down to her cheeks. 

Mdissy,’’ she exclaimed — for when Liza 
was anxious or grave, she called the child by 
her real name — ^ ‘ go into my room and put 
on your blue calico, and your white stockings 
and slippers. I’ll come and braid your hair.” 

Who’s come, Liza? ” 

It’s some of your kin. Mind, now, don’t 
go through the sitting-room.” 

Then Bluebell knew that the awful presence 
was there. She walked on tiptoe past the 
closed door, Rocco at her heels, and slipped 
up the staircase to that half nursery, half bed- 
room, which the children occupied with Liza. 
It contained some of their mother ’s furniture : 
a mahogany chest of drawers, bulging in front ; 
a stuffed rocking-chair in which Bluebell told 
the little sister stories; a crib, and a trundle- 
bed which was not pushed under Liza’s white- 
valanced and quilt-covered four-poster, but 


COMPANY 


39 


stood under a window that the cherry-boughs 
scraped. The room was whitewashed as fair 
as a lily, even to the hewed wood joists. Liza’s 
dresses hung on nails along the wall, and Blue- 
bell’s hung beneath in a row which she could 
reach. 

Her heelless slippers and fine open-work 
stockings came out of the chest of drawers; 
and she was soon struggling to hook the blue 
calico, but ineffectually, when Liza came up 
like a breeze, brushed and braided her hair in 
two short tails, tied the tails with yellow bro- 
caded ribbon from her own ribbon-box, and 
looked her over approvingly. 

Now don’t forget your curchy,” she ad- 
monished. Come here, Kocky: let me braid 
your hair, too, while I’m about it.” 

Eocky demurred, but it was no use. Her lint 
locks were swiftly made into two tiny strands 
and also tied across with yellow ribbon, giving 
her an ancient and grotesque appearance. The 
children trod downstairs a step at a time, hand 
in hand. Bluebell trembling with bashful self- 
consciousness. It choked her voice and made 
her dizzy when she entered the sitting-room. 


40 


EOCKY FOEK 


so that she stumbled on a strip of the home- 
woven carpet laid loose upon the floor. There 
were a few chairs, including one gilt-orna- 
mented rocker, and a case of the doctor ^s 
books, in the sitting-room; and nothing more; 
for the guest in white curls was on the porch 
looking up the amphitheatre of woods sur- 
rounding her. 

She was certainly a great lady. Her dress 
of plum-colored poplin had a long pointed 
waist; she wore a broad embroidered collar 
turned over ribbon, and just as the children 
appeared, put a large, open-faced gold watch 
back into its pocket. Her hair was coiled on 
the top of her head and fastened with a shell 
comb, two full curls being left at each side of 
the forehead. 

Bluebell felt overwhelmed when this lady 
turned her delicate face from the hills and 
reached two transparent hands toward the 
country children. Bluebell made her obeisance, 
and the lady seemed pleased with the conscien- 
tious gravity with which she did it. 

‘‘ Don’t you know me? ” said this lady, 
pressing a hand of each child. 


COMPANY 


41 


No, ma’am.’’ 

I am Miss Calder. Your father has told 
you about me? I became responsible for you 
when you were an infant, and you received my 
name, Melissa.” 

Bluebell searched her memory painfully. 
She was very anxious to know her namesake, 
who seemed the daintiest woman alive; but 
having no recollection of the matter herself, 
she was forced to admit she did not know she 
had one. 

I s’pose father forgot to tell me,” she ob- 
served, bringing forward the best excuse she 
could think of for him. 

I dare say,” said Miss Calder. He has 
not been the same man since your mother 
died.” The fair old lady began to tremble. 
She took a handkerchief out of the beaded reti- 
cule hanging to her arm, and, hugging Bluebell 
to her, cried for several minutes with an agi- 
tation which shook them both. Bluebell was 
much embarrassed. She felt that she ought to 
be very sorry, and heaved several deep sighs ; 
but the pain in her nose, which Miss Calder 
was squeezing against the watch-case, kept her 


42 


ROCKY FORK 


from fully giving lierself up to grief, and it was 
probably just as well, as she had a whole life- 
time in which to miss her mother. 

The rose-leaf maiden lady dried her eyes, 
and sat down with the children, one on each 
side of her. 

Are you ^sponsible for Rocco, tool 

‘‘ No. I do not know who named her. Your 
parents were living in another place at that 
time, and your mother died soon after her 
birth. I have not seen you since you were a 
babe in arms. Your mother was a very lovely 
woman. ’ ’ 

<< WeVe got a daguerreotype of her.’’ 

^ ‘ Indeed ! will you let me see it I ” 

Father will when he comes. He keeps it 
locked in his desk drawer. I took it to school 
one day to show to the scholars, ’cause Printhy 
Pancost said she knew my mother wasn’t 
pretty, and he said I mustn’t take it any 
more.” 

The fair lady smiled slightly, and said again, 
‘‘ Indeed ! ” This appeared to be a polite word 
which she uttered without the least emotion, 
merely to indicate that she was listening. 


COMPANY 


43 


What do you study at school? ’’ 

Beading and spelling. I'm in the Second 
Eeader. We Ve read as far as the ‘ Three Boys 
and the Three Cakes,' and we're spelling in 
‘ A-base.' I could spell over to ^ In-com-pat- 
i-bil-i-ty,' but the rest can't. And there's go- 
ing to be a g'ography school, and I'll ask father 
to send me. ' ' 

Indeed. You are very smart in your 
studies, Melissa. Little Boxana doesn't go to 
school? " 

No, ma'am." 

Here little Boxana, unwilling to be presented 
to company as totally unaccomplished, rubbed 
her long fingers over the lady's watch-guard 
and asserted herself : 

‘ ‘ I can sing at the f oonerals ! ' ' 

Bluebell felt disconcerted. She feared to 
shock the rose-leaf guardian; but Bocco took 
no notice of her signal to drop the subject. 

I can sing ^ Back any more,' and ‘ Cap in 
a father's hand.' " To prove which the baby 
began at once and sang in a clear, bold voice : 

This is the way I long have sought, 

I neva' turn back any more : 


44 


EOCKY FOEK 


And mourned a-tause I foun’ it not, 

I neva’ turn back any more : 

Away the holy proph-ups went, 

I neva’ turn back any more : 

The road T leads from bam-shum-ment, 

I neva^ turn back any more ! 

< < Why, indeed ! ’ ’ exclaimed Miss Calder. 
But, like a wound-up musical box, changing her 
tune, Eocco went on: 

There is a happy land. 

Far, far away: 

There saints and glory stand. 

Bright, bright as day. 

Caps in a father’s hand, 

Love cannot die.” 

‘‘ I know ^ Jucy-crucy-fide-him,’ too.’^ 

‘‘ She means ‘ The Jews, they crucified 
Him,’ ” said Bluebell. 

I sing it to the white chicken’s fooneral, 
and the black chicken’s fooneral, and the 
speckled chicken’s fooneral.” 

You see,” said Bluebell, hot in the face, 
but constrained to answer the raised ey^ebrows 
of this lady who probably never pulled off 
shoes and stockings or rolled down a sand- 


COMPANY 


45 


bank, or so much as looked at a dead chicken, 
when she was a little girl, we got a little 
graveyard. And there were so many pretty 
little chicks died. And Liza lets us take the 
fire shovel. We dig a nice little hole and fence 
it all round with sticks in the bottom, and wrap 
the chicky up; then we ’tend like this porch 
was the church, and we sing and have a fu- 
neral like they did when Mary Jane Willey died 
— I just preach about what a good chicken it 
was,” stammered Bluebell; and then we 
’tend like we’re cryin’ and put it in our box 
that we pull with a string, and have a perces- 
sion to the grave.” She became so interested 
in the description that she ended with some 
gusto. 

Miss Calder put her handkerchief to her lips, 
shaking a little, and Bluebell felt afraid that 
she was going to cry again. 

Isn’t that an unhealthy kind of play? ” 
she finally asked. 

Oh no, ma’am — the chickens is just as 
clean! ” 

‘‘ But your feelings are so disturbed.” 

“ We just let on we feel bad. We got ten 


46 


ROCKY FORK 


chickens buried, and headstones and footstones 
to ^em all. We enjoy ourselves so much! 

Miss Calderas smile now escaped from the 
handkerchief and ran up her delicate shrivelled 
face. 

I have something for you in my trunk 
which may amuse you in a different way. ’ ’ So 
saying the lady rose and rustled into the sit- 
ting-room, where in one corner stood a small, 
round-lidded hair-trunk just as the driver from 
the station had left it. She opened this with 
a key from her reticule, while Bluebell and 
Roxana stood one at each end of it, their hands 
behind them and their pulses beating with ex- 
pectation. A scent of lavender and rose-leaves 
came from under the cover. Miss Calder lifted 
musky robes of lawn, dazzling white embroid- 
ered garments, and her cap and bonnet-box out, 
before she came to certain packages which she 
methodically unwrapped. 

Bluebell swallowed several times, and the 
little sister opened her mouth. 

The first thing which came to sight was a 
string of blue and white beads braided in a 
rope; that Miss Calder tied around Rocco’s 







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• T- 

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• r • • 




r I 


« 




COMPANY 


47 


honored neck. Then followed a rattle and 
whistle, also for Eocco, whom the good lady 
had evidently pictured to herself as yet an 
infant. But when two flat packages revealed 
themselves, ‘ ‘ Tales from Catland ’ ’ in red and 
gold and Stories from Eoman History ’’ in 
black, flexible backs. Bluebell felt unspeakably 
rich. This was, after all, a comparative state. 
The superlative was reached when the la^st 
bundle of all came out of several newspapers 
and folds of tissue paper. There were some 
glimpses of pink gauze, the unmistakable pres- 
ence of small gaitered feet, then the actual 
dawning of rosy face and flaxen hair. 

Here’s a wax doll for you,” said Miss 
Calder, making the presentation as if wax dolls 
were a common addition to every well-regu- 
lated little girl’s family. This was the first of 
that particular class of dolls the children had 
ever seen. Several cheap ladies with broken 
heads were lying about the house; for when- 
ever the doctor made a journey he brought one 
of the children a doll and the other a book — 
the books being always histories, or solid sci- 


ences. 


48 


EOCKY FOEK 


Bluebell, I must confess, was too much an 
out-door child to be a tender mother of dolls. 
But this beautiful creature with real hair, woke 
rapture in her. Her breath came short when 
she thanked the new friend. The splendor of 
such a possession made her ashamed of her 
unmaternal care over the plainer dollies who 
had fallen one by one into Eocco^s untutored 
hands. 

What will you call her? ’’ 

“ I think the prettiest name in the world is 
Georgiana,’’ said Bluebell, hesitating. If this 
darling must be called Melissa it seemed more 
than she could stand ! 

That suits her very nicely,’’ agreed the fair 
maiden lady. Bluebell was emboldened to go up 
closer and make her lips into an expectant bud. 

You want to kiss me, do you! ” said Miss 
Calder, smiling; so she inclined her cheek 
towards the bashful, eager little face, and Blue- 
bell felt as if she had kissed a white hollyhock’s 
jdelding petal. 

I have some pretty pieces to make Miss 
Georgiana more clothes. Do you know how to 
sew! ” 


COMPANY 


49 


I can hem a little, but it sticks my fin- 
ger. ’ ’ 

Have you begun a sampler yet? 

No, ma^am. But Liza’s going to start one 
for me. Teeny Banks has got one done, but 
she ’s a young woman. ’ ’ 

A well-known, ringing neigh came from the 
lane which led through woods from the main 
road. 

That’s Bailie! Father’s at the bars. I’ll 
go and tell him you’re come.” 

Father had flung himself out of the saddle, 
and the slender-legged, delicate Arabian mare 
followed him into her stable. Her chestnut 
coat had the richness of satin. She had one 
white stocking and a white face, pink, sensitive 
nostrils and an arching neck. She had been 
known to do marvels of speed, to breast swollen 
streams, to pick her way carefully around dan- 
gerous cliffs in the darkest night. She and 
her master moved together like one of the old 
sylvan Centaurs; but if Bluebell climbed her 
back, as she sometimes did, the Arabian 
stepped as gently as a nurse. 

Accustomed to her father’s habits. Bluebell 


50 


EOCKY FOEK 


waited on the barn floor until he stabled the 
pretty creature. She still held Miss Georgiana 
carefully in her arms. He came out, unfas- 
tened his leggings, and hung them in their 
usual place. His face was square, serious, and 
sweet. His light hair hung below his high 
standing collar. He was a young man, scarcely 
thirty, and so lovable when he got into the 
arms of his children. Still, Bluebell had been 
taught not to address him by the diminutive of 
papa. His own bringing-up had been austere, 
inclining to plain, strong words like father, 
mother, children. 

‘ ^ See what I got ! ^ ’ cried his little girl. 

Father lifted her up, doll and all, relaxing 
into a smile. 

Where did you get that? 

‘‘ Father, Miss Calder has come. And she 
brought Eocco some beads and me some books, 
and Eocco a whistle, and me a doll, and she’s 
got a gold watch and white curly hair ! Oh, I ’m 
so glad! And may I go to g’ography school 
to-night? There’s a man going to teach in the 
church.” 

Father put her down and took her hand. 


COMPANY 


51 


‘‘ Wlien did she come! ’’ he inquired as they 
walked towards the house. 

Before I got home from school. I guess 
a man brought her. And, father,’^ advised 
Bluebell, confidentially, don’t say anything 
to her about mother, for if you do, she’ll burst 
out a-crying ! ’ ’ 

He looked down at the auburn head with 
wistful eyes. 

It occurred to her afterwards that grown 
people seemed to pay little attention to what 
children said; for when she came in with 
Eocco to supper, father was showing Miss 
Calder the daguerreotype, and she was crying 
in her web-like handkerchief. 

Bluebell heard her say, She was like a 
daughter to me. ’ ’ The doctor sat with his head 
on his hand. But Bluebell was prevented from 
witnessing their meeting by Eoxana’s singular 
behavior. This lint-locked damsel stood beside 
the house, her hands locked behind her. The 
whistle and rattle lay despised upon the earth, 
though her beads still hung beneath her sulking 
chin. Bluebell’s heart misgave her. But she 
tried persuasion. 


52 


EOCKY FOEK 


Darling, don’t you want to go and help 
sisser hunt up the old, pretty dollies, and set 
’em in a nice row? ” Eocco’s whole body 
shook a negative. 

Would you like to hold the wax dolly in 
your hands, and be real careful ? ’ ’ 

Eocco kicked backward with her heel to in- 
dicate her contempt for the wax dolly. 

0 dear! ” sighed Bluebell, who had been 
taught it was the duty of an elder sister to 
give up to the younger. Do you want to take 
my doll right out of my mouth, when it was a 
present, too, and pull her hair out and rub dirt 
on her face, and break her all to pieces ? ’ ’ 

Eoxana wriggled a very faint negative. But 
still it was evident that wax doll stood between 
her sister’s heart and hers. 

1 don’t da’st to give her away to you,” 
pleaded Bluebell, safe on that point; still she 
looked ruefully at the fair Georgiana’s dissen- 
sion-creating face. 

‘‘ I don’t want the ole fing! ” exclaimed 
Eocco, sticking her lip further out and scowl- 
ing. She really did not know what was swell- 
ing in her tender little heart. 


COMPANY 


53 


Then, honey-dew,^’ argued Bluebell, whose 
affection would burst into pet names which she 
would not on any account have had her elders 
hear, “ what you poutin’ for? ” 

She held the disturbing Georgiana aloft. 

‘‘ Georgiana,” said the elder sister, I got 
just one little Rockety-popperty, and I love her 
and hug her, and our mother’s dead, so we’re 
half-orphans. And we play together and have 
the best times! Buryin’ chickens and all.” 

Rocco’s long fingers twisted nervously, and 
one full tear splashed on the toe she was scowl- 
ing at. 

And now a good friend’s come, and 
brought you, and my little sister’s got mad! 
It makes me feel so bad I don’t want to play! 
You can just stay here under this tree. I’m 
goin’ off in the woods or some place. And our 
company will want to know what’s become of 
me, and folks will say, ‘ she went off and lay 
down like the babes in the woods ’cause her 
sister didn’t love her any more! ’ ” 

Roxana uttered a mournful whoop. Her 
heart broke under its heavy weight, and the 
freshet washed over her face. 


54 


EOCKY FORK 


'‘I ain’t mad, B’uebell,” she surrendered, 
piteously. 

They flew and caught each other in a tight 
embrace. Bluebell stooping to the baby. 

‘ ‘ I do love you any more ! ’ ’ 

‘‘You old darling! ” 

“ Don’t go off to the woods! ” 

Eocco was such a delicious little sister in her 
melting moment, so wet-eyed, so tremulous in 
the breast, clinging with such loving arms, that 
the least pliable person could not resist her. 

“No, I won’t go off to the woods, honey- 
dew,” vowed Bluebell. 

“You can have my eggs in the rob — rob — 
robin’s nest,” hiccupped Eocco, who in the 
triumph of affection gave up all things. 

“ And you can be Georgiana’s mother, and 
I’ll be her grandmother! Then you’ll own her 
too, and I won’t be givin’ her away! ” This 
flash of Bluebell’s genius fused the whole dif- 
ficulty. 

Eocco ’s tears were carefully wiped off on 
the wrong side of her apron. A smile like the 
brightness after rain spread from her black 
eyelashes all over her face, a reflection of the 


COMPANY 


55 


smile Georgiana had been so steadily bestow- 
ing on her small maternal relative, her grand- 
parent, the dark, weather-beaten house, the 
cherry-trees, and all animate and inanimate 
nature. 


CHAPTER V 


THE GEOGRAPHY SCHOOL 

A FTER supper Miss Calder professed her- 
self very much fatigued; so Liza showed 
her at once to the best room, and Doctor Garde, 
before setting out' on a night ride, carried her 
trunk into it. 

This gorgeous apartment was situated on 
the ground floor, opening directly from the 
sitting-room; and as the rest of the family 
slept up-stairs, the timid lady felt an unac- 
knowledged chill running down her spine. She 
considered that she had come into a wild and 
uncivilized region, and remembered the brig- 
and-like workmen at the Furnace who seemed 
to regard her with curiosity. 

‘‘ Are you not afraid, alone with the children, 
when Doctor Garde is gone! ’’ she asked Liza, 
while laying out her toilet-set. 

Oh no, I never think of such a thing. 
Mother and me lived here alone so long. They 
56 


THE GEO&EAPHY SCHOOL 57 


say it is unsafe over in the Harris neighbor- 
hood. But nobody ever tried to break into this 
house. 

A screech-owl screamed, and Miss Calder 
shuddered. These spinster ladies were very 
polite to each other, but they really stood in 
social opposition. 

She’s used to fine living, and she’ll think 
this is no place to bring up the children,” was 
Liza’s secret fear. 

The children seem healthy and happy 
enough,” was Miss Calder ’s silent comment, 
but they never will learn manners here. 
Maurice must be roused, and reminded of his 
duty to them.” 

There was a fire-place in the spare bedroom, 
now filled with asparagus and roses set in a 
huge blue pitcher. The toilet-stand was cov- 
ered with ruffled dimity. The bed-valance was 
also of ruffled dimity, and a mountain of 
feather-beds, dressed in the best linen and 
showiest quilts the house afforded, offered 
Miss Calder repose. Liza had once been to 
Fredericktown, and she flattered herself she 
knew how town-folks fixed their company 


58 


ROCKY FORK 


rooms. A chest on legs and a brass-knobbed 
bureau stood in opposite corners. The flow- 
ered bowl and pitcher would be eagerly seized 
by china-fanciers in these days. A long gilt- 
framed glass, with a gaudy landscape at the 
top of it, was shrouded in gauze, like the face 
of a Turkish wife. On each paper blind was 
represented a colossal vase of flowers, so gor- 
geous that real roses were put almost out of 
countenance by them. And the chairs were all 
wooden seats instead of split-bottom, and had 
gilding on their backs. On the wall was a 
framed certificate of Liza’s church-member- 
ship; and the plaster-of-Paris images of a cat 
and a parrot ornamented opposite ends of the 
mantel, while Little Samuel ” knelt pacific- 
ally between them. 

There’s no lock on the door that opens on 
to the porch,” bustled Liza, but you needn’t 
be afraid. Nobody could open that door with- 
out waking you.” 

Miss Calder saw this door with cold per- 
spiration, and thought of her cozy upper cham- 
ber at home, and her two bell-ropes which on 
the instant would arouse Maria and the man. 


THE GEOGRAPHY SCHOOL 59 


But she smiled as pleasantly as possible, 
while thinking, ^ ‘ My nerves will not bear such 
a strain long.’’ 

Liza wished her good-night, and went to put 
the baby to bed, and attend to her milking. 

The cows were at the lower bars, waiting in 
content. Night had not fairly set in, for twi- 
light lingers so long among the hills. There 
was dead blackness up the pine slopes, but an 
after-glow along the valley. Bluebell sat on 
the fence watching these bovine mothers. She 
had called them from the other side of the run, 
with long intonations : ‘ ^ Su-kee ; Pi-dey ! Ro- 
see! Su-ukee! ” Pidey’s bell had tinkled ac- 
companiment, recording their progress on the 
way. Now it dingled down the opposite hill 
with such a clamor that Bluebell could fancy 
the knock-kneed trot of both cows; and now 
it thumped as they plunged into the run ; then 
it wandered along, pausing over some very 
sweet bunch of grass, jerking at a mouthful of 
sweet-briar, and finally coming to the bars in 
perfect marching time: te-ding, te-ding, te- 

ding, a-ding, dingd^ Bluebell had never heard 
an organ or an orchestra. She thought that 


60 


EOCKY FOEK 


cow-bell in the dim landscape, with echoes com- 
ing back from the hills, the most softening 
music in the world. The sound brought with 
it a smell of roses, of grass after rain, and 
clover. 

But another sound now attracted her ear, 
and she turned on the fence. Bailie was neigh- 
ing at the upper bars. The doctor had one foot 
in the stirrup and was rising to his seat when 
his daughter’s voice burst out in appeal: 

‘‘ Oh, father, won’t you please take me to 
g’ography school? ” 

She clung panting to the fence. ‘ ‘ The whole 
school’s goin’, and it’s only to Harris’s 
chapel! ” 

He felt very tender toward his children this 
evening, though he thought himself always too 
indulgent. 

‘‘ But I haven’t time to take out the buggy 
now.” 

Can’t I ride behind you, father? I’m all 
dressed up ’cept my Sunday flat.” 

Well, run and get it then, I can leave you 
at the chapel, and pick you up when I come 
back. Tell Liza to pin a shawl around you.” 


THE GEOGRAPHY SCHOOL 61 


Bluebell was presently climbing to a seat 
behind the Arabian’s saddle, and holding 
around her father as they trotted away. Her 
mother’s black-silk, heavily fringed shawl was 
pinned tightly under her chin. It must be con- 
fessed that Liza had not seen her wrapped. 
Liza was with the baby, and Bluebell knew she 
would put the horrible old broche around her 
— a wrap beautiful in its time, but now as 
old as Liza’s self, and much the worse for 
wear. So the damsel knocked hastily at Miss 
Calder’s door, to gain access to the chest 
within. 

Miss Melissa opened it with some hesitation 
lest it were an early housebreaker. She had 
on a flowered dressing-gown and was brushing 
out her puffs. 

I only want to get my shawl out of the 
chest,” said the little girl, and she hurried to 
lift the heavy lid. 

Are you going out, my dear? ” 

‘‘ Father’s goin’ to take me to g’ography 
school.” 

To geography school? ” 

‘‘ Yes, ma’am. I’m to ride behind him on 


62 


EOCKY FORK 


Bailie, and liedl leave me at the door, and call 
for me when he comes back. It will be such 
fun! 

Miss Melissa looked as if she hardly thought 
so. Her inward comment was, Dear me! 
how negligent and ignorant of a mother’s duty 
a man is ! ” 

Bluebell dragged out the heavy embroidered 
black shawl, and ran with it. The silk apron 
was not attainable ; but this royal garment and 
her flat ” were more than she had hoped for. 
The ‘‘ flat ” was a brown crimped straw with 
flopping brim, tied under the chin — a head- 
covering for Sunday. 

It was quite an adventure to be going 
towards that unknown delight of geography 
school, behind on Bailie, who, though kind, 
curvetted and begged to know why she was 
asked to do double duty like any old hack. 

They rode by the skirts of the pines, and 
down a knotty, steep wagon road, over the 
bridge of the run to the cross-roads. Lights 
from various cabins twinkled along their way. 
The horse’s hoofs struck the county thorough- 
fare which led past the school-house, but paused 


THE GEOGRAPHY SCHOOL 


63 


at a small white building, and here Bluebell 
alighted. Her mind had been too busy for talk, 
and her young, grave father, occupied also, 
whistled under his breath all the way. It made 
her feel sad to hear father whistle so — it was 
like the far-off sigh of the pines. 

Vll stop for you,^’ he said as he cantered 
off. 

Harris ’s chapel was lighted ; and through its 
two open doors you could see it was crowded. 
Its gable-end was towards the road, and a flight 
of wooden steps led up to each door. Bluebell 
entered on the women ^s side.’’ No kind of 
meeting could be held in the building which 
would make it proper for these doors to be 
used indiscriminately. All the men and boys 
entered at one door, all the women and girls 
at the other ; a certain partition in the benches 
separated the house into two sides, one of 
which was composed of bonnets, and the other 
of bare heads having the hair cropped around 
the ears. 

But never had the chapel presented so enjoy- 
able a sight to Bluebell’s eyes as now. She 
liked the nine-o’clock Sunday-school, and even 


64 


EOCKY FORK 


the sermon, though the minister always 
pounded and the echoes of his voice made your 
ears ache; but when the windows were open 
such pleasant air came in, the children looked 
so nice in their Sunday clothes, and their moth- 
ers so peaceful, and even ugly old Mr. Harris 
seemed quite pleasant, when he started the 
singing, keeping time with his foot, and rolling 
out cheerfully: 

Come, let us anew 
Our journey pursue, 

Eoll round with the year. 

And never stand still 
Till the Master appear.” 

But to-night the whitewashed walls glistened 
under tallow candles stuck in tin sockets at reg- 
ular intervals around them, besides those lights 
in the great chandeliers made of cross-pieces 
of wood pierced with holes. At the pulpit-end 
of the room, large maps covered the wall ; and 
below them stood Mr. Runnels with a long 
pointer in his hand. The seats seemed filled to 
overflowing with everybody for miles around, 
as Bluebell tiptoed up the aisle. The flat 
flopped and the fringed shawl trailed. Some 


THE GEOGRAPHY SCHOOL 65 


one put out a hand and pulled her, and she 
found Perintha Pancost had squeezed a seat 
for her, which she thankfully took, settling her 
little blushing face into the mass. She found 
Mandy Willey on the other side of her. Mandy 
Willey had on the black-silk apron, and her 
white sun-bonnet. She had also a pocketful of 
fresh mountain-tea, which she divided with the 
other girls. 

‘‘ What did you wear your flat for? whis- 
pered Perintha disparagingly. ‘ ‘ Take it off 1 ’ ’ 
Her school bonnet lay in her lap, and she 
looked comfortable. 

‘‘ I sha’n’t do it,’’ whispered back Bluebell 
with some asperity. 

^ ^ My maw has an old shawl like that, ’ ’ added 
Perintha, fingering the fringe. 

Your maw! ” retorted Bluebell, stung by 
the implied stricture when she thought herself 
looking her grandest. She concentrated all her 
scorn on the soft diminutive. Td say 
mother! ” 

Humph! ” snuffed Perintha. 

Miss Calder’s come,” continued Bluebell in 
a dignified fashion. She’s a town-lady. She 


66 


ROCKY FORK 


brought me a doll with real hair that you can 
comb out, like mine. ^ ^ 

‘‘ I don^t care if she has,^’ retorted Perintha. 
‘‘ My cousin in Frederick has two dolls nearly 
as big as I am, and both of them has hair ! ’’ 

So they might have gone on, trying to out- 
shine each other in lustre borrowed from their 
friends and relatives, much as grown people 
do, had not Mr. Runnels now claimed every- 
body’s attention. He gave a brief, plain lec- 
ture on the divisions of the earth’s surface. 
Then selecting the map of North America, he 
requested the be^st singers to take their places 
on front seats. Old Mr. Harris, who had come 
to keep a proper check on proceedings, felt 
touched and complimented by this appeal. He 
always led church singing; so, tiptoeing offi- 
ciously about, he weeded out a laughing girl 
here and an awkward young man there, in some 
other place a middle-aged farmer who was 
noted for bass, or a matronly shrill-voiced sis- 
ter who responded with reluctance, and placed 
them in array, himself at the head, good- 
naturedly ready to lend his influence to educa- 
tion. 


THE GEOGRAPHY SCHOOL 67 


Then Mr. Runnels turned to the old school- 
master who sat smiling and prominent on a 
chair brought down from the high pulpit, and 
begged that the school-children might be 
brought forward. Upon this, Mr. Pitzer tip- 
toed along the aisles, summoning this one and 
that one of his flock and ranging them behind 
the front row, where the heads of some scarcely 
reached above the high backs of the seats. 
Bluebell felt important and excited, and re- 
gretted having left behind her Noah’s Ark 
book, which she had proposed to herself as a 
text-book to the maps. Perintha and Mandy 
forgot to munch mountain- tea. Little Joe Hall 
sat beside the master, on the men’s side, the 
master secretly proud of this boy’s quick mind 
and alert manner, though pretending to be ob- 
livious to them lest parents of other children 
present might say he showed partiality.” 

The geography-teacher explained the map, 
and old Mr. Harris was the first to go up and 
‘‘ point out ” different countries. He made 
mistakes and chirped pleasantly over them, but 
encouraged one or two blushing girls to follow 
him, and a lumbering boy who was so fright- 


68 


EOCKY FORK 


ened when the pointer was placed in his hand 
that he could not tell land from water. 

Then little Joe Hall stepped forward and 
covered himself all over with glory; he had 
the countries so thoroughly by heart that no- 
body could puzzle him, though John Tegarden 
confusedly called for ‘‘ Russian Central.’’ The 
master smiled furtively around while he took 
off his glasses and rubbed them. 

But now the beauty of a geography school 
came into full play. The improvised orchestra 
was instructed to lift up its voice and sing off 
the map while Mr. Runnels indicated each 
country with the pointer. The melody was a 
sort of chant, but it was a lively chant, and 
every rustic took it up with enjoyment: 

Greenland, a desolate and barren region, 
Greenland, a desolate and barren region ! 

^^Eussian America, New Archangel, 

Russian America, New Archangel. 

British America has no capital, 

British America has no capital. 

'^ITnited States, Washington, 

The government’s republican: 


THE GEOGRAPHY SCHOOL 69 


United States, Washington, 

The government’s republican. 

“ Mexico, Mexico city, 

Mexico, Mexico city. 

Central America, New Guatemala, 

Central America, New Guatemala.” 

It sounded so wonderfully learned. These 
geographical names were caught up with gusto 
by everybody in the house except a few quiet 
old folks who respected good learning,’’ but 
felt that their day was too far advanced to 
attempt it. In short, the geography-teacher 
and his method made an excellent impression; 
and when he called a recess that ‘‘ signers ” 
might come forward and enroll themselves in 
his classes, as future lessons would be given 
with closed doors, a majority of all present 
were put upon his lists. Even Mr. Pitzer joined 
the adult class; not that he had anything to 
learn in the science of geography; but he said 
he always liked to throw his influence on the 
right side. 

Ain’t your paw going to send you? ” in- 
quired Perintha of Bluebell. Perintha was 
promenading with the air of a proprietress, 


70 


EOCKY FOEK 


just because the geography-teacher boarded at 
her house ! 

Course he is/’ exclaimed Doctor Garde’s 
little girl, anxious for his return; he always 
wants me to learn everything I can. ’ ’ 

She stood on a bench and stretched up to one 
of the high windows to peer in the direction he 
had taken. The boys and girls trooped in and 
out enjoying their recess; the elderly people 
gathered in groups ; and she felt quite left out 
and behind the fashion, until little Joe Hall 
called her attention. 

Bluebell Garde, your father wants you.” 

Where is he? ” she asked, scrambling 
down. 

He’s up there talking to Mr. Eunnels. I 
guess he’s signin’ for you.” 

He had enrolled her name and paid the fee, 
in an absent way, but he did not seem greatly 
impressed by the smiling geography-teacher. 

The children’s class will meet on Saturday 
afternoons,” said Mr. Eunnels. Your little 
girl seems to have a wonderful mind. She has 
learned the map of North America already.” 
He said this, drawing his breath over his 


THE GEOGRAPHY SCHOOL 71 


teeth and bowing in a way which made Blue- 
bell uncomfortable, ‘ ‘ it seemed so affected ’ ’ — 
she had heard Liza speak of atfected peo- 
ple ^ ’ with such condemnation that they seemed 
next door to criminals. The young father 
looked down at her, possibly flattered by this 
tribute to his child’s talents. 

She needs holding back instead of urging 
forward, ’ ’ he said briefly ; and taking her hand, 
he nodded adieu to Mr. Runnels. 

Can’t I stay till it’s out, father? ” begged 
Bluebell, trotting by his side as he stalked out, 
his old patients right and left greeting him. 

No. He had another call to make on the way 
home, and had no time for the geography 
school. 

So she was obliged to console herself, as they 
cantered along, with rehearsing the chant 
which meant in her ears a triplet of gruesome 
sounding names for one country : 

“ Greenland, a des-o-late and barren region ! ” 

They drew up at Ridenour’s gate. Her 
father went in, with his black-leather medicine- 
cases called ‘‘ pill-bags ” over his arm, merely 


72 


EOCKY FOEK 


throwing the Arabian’s bridle over a post. 
Bluebell crept forward into the saddle, and 
began to stroke the mare’s soft neck. She put 
her foot into the strap above the stirrup and 
took a firm seat, imagining herself flying at 
full gallop. It would have frightened Miss 
Melissa beyond expression to see her in this 
unprotected, perilous plight. 

Suddenly the flat did flop with violence, and 
she found herself clinging with all her might 
to the plunging Arabian’s mane. 

‘‘ I want you! ” said the rough voice of a 
man, appearing through the darkness. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE NAKKOWS AND MARY ANN FUENACE 



H! ’’ added the man, frightened to see 


such a little shape cling to the plunging 
horse, I thought it was the doctor.’^ 

The doctor was fortunately making a short 
call; and he now appeared to quiet the still 
snorting creature. 

I held on tight, father ! ’’ said his little girl, 
trembling in every nerve. 

‘‘ I didnT mean to scare anything,’’ apolo- 
gized the furnace-man with some compunction, 
though with his own anxiety and errand upper- 
most; hut I saw the horse, like you was 
startin’ away and I wanted to stop you. WeVe 
had an accident down to the Furnace. I went 
in to your place, but Liza said you’d gone this 
way, so I come along expectin’ to meet you. 
Eli Ridenour fell over the Narrows.” 

I’ll come,” said the doctor. ‘‘ Is he at the 
Furnace? ” 


73 


74 


EOCKY FOEK 


Yes, sir/’ 

‘‘ Well, you go in and tell the family. Cau- 
tiously, mind; his mother isn’t strong yet. 
And have them send a wagon with plenty of 
bedding to bring him home.” 

The furnace-man entered the house without 
ceremony, according to the custom of the coun- 
try, and Doctor Garde swung himself again 
into the saddle, taking his little girl this time 
before him. 

‘‘You ought to be in bed,” he observed as 
they flew up the slope. ‘ ‘ Guess I better let you 
down where the lane turns off. You can run 
along then, can’t you? ” 

Eun along that dark lane, half a mile in 
length, through blackness, all alone! Fathers 
are not mothers; and this father, though the 
tenderest in intention, was so accustomed to 
heroic methods himself, that he did not realize 
what terror his proposition held for his little 
girl. 

“ Don’t make me get otf,” she pleaded, pat- 
ting his shaven cheek. She thought of Billy 
Bowl. It is impossible to explain how this 
mythical character could haunt her after dark. 


THE NAREOWS 


75 


He was a monster of ingratitude in a story, and 
Bluebell had a greater horror of him than of 
any other image her mind could call up. Billy 
Bowl was a bow-legged fellow who slipped into 
a pit : there he lay bellowing for help — Blue- 
bell could fancy his hoarse cries — until some 
good man came along and pulled him out. It 
was easy to picture this excellent person reach- 
ing into the pit and taking hold of Billyhs re- 
pulsive hand. And being pulled out, what did 
the bow-legged Billy do ? He turned around — 
how strongly the case was stated in that ! — he 
turned around and pushed in the man who 
pulled him out ! Many a night Bluebell wished 
Billy Bowl had been left in the pit! Many a 
time did she regret Liza had ever told her the 
story. She believed him always abroad, an 
element of evil on the air! She could not tell 
any grown person about it. Father would 
laugh, and show the absurdity of the fancy. 

Father had not the slightest idea that his 
little girl nursed any Bugaboo or felt her flesh 
creep at braving Billy Bowl the whole length 
of that lane! With a shade of disapproval, 
however, he did observe : 


76 


EOCKY FOEK 


I hope my little girl isn’t a coward! ” 

Fear of Billy Bowl and general cowardice 
were two distinct things in Bluebell ’s mind. 

‘‘ Course I’m not! ” she answered with di- 
rect truth. ‘‘ Didn’t I hold tight and not get 
throwed otf! And I didn’t scream, either. 
But do take me along, you never took me to see 
any patients. I like to go with you, father,” 
confessed Bluebell, half-ashamed to reveal how 
much she enjoyed his society. And she added, 
patting his shaven cheek again : 

Little father! ” 

‘‘ Little father ” was not displeased by the 
caress. He kissed her on the forehead, and 
thought what a companion she would grow to 
be for him. They cantered past the turning 
otf of their lane. The road soon required all 
his attention. They entered what was known 
about Eocky Fork as the Narrows : a shelf dug 
out along a precipice. It was only a mile or 
so in extent, but being of semi-circular shape, 
those who used the pass could see but a few 
yards ahead of them. Above it the hill rose 
perpendicularly in masses of rock and dis- 
torted pines as high as Bluebell could see. 


THE NAEEOWS 


77 


Below it — many jagged, straight-down yards 
below it — the Eocky Fork murmured along a 
bed of boulders. 

About the middle of the Narrows a huge 
mass of rock hung over the way, threatening 
every passer : it was called the Table. Every 
hard storm brought part of it down, and a dan- 
gerous gully was worn under it. The road was 
comfortably wide for horsemen, though in pass- 
ing, the one who had a. right to the wall was 
thankful therefor; but vehicles could not pos- 
sibly pass each other. 

Whenever two carriages met on the Narrows, 
the driver nearest the entrance unhitched his 
horses, fastened them to the rear of his vehicle 
and drew it backward into a broader place. 
No railing of any sort protected the edge. No 
one but a native, or a person perfectly familiar 
with every step of the way, would cross the 
Narrows, especially after night. 

The doctor’s horse picked her way, not too 
close to the mountain-wall. Eock-splinters and 
flint-dust rolled over the edge and were heard 
dropping and dropping until the brain turned 
dizzy following them. She knew every foot of 


78 


ROCKY FORK 


tlie road, but snorted frequently as if her dis- 
approval of it was unconquerable. BluebelPs 
fingers tightened on her father ^s coat. Her 
face was toward the ravine. It was a gulf of 
darkness : there was no moon, and it was just 
as well that little could be seen except the white 
flinty track. Just after they passed the Table 
rock, where Bailie had to tread quite on the 
outside to keep from knocking her rider ^s head, 
they heard footfalls advancing toward them. 
Bluebell knew father would take care of her! 
still they must turn to the right, and the right 
was the outside. 

The footfalls quickened, they thumped tumul- 
tuously: it was a horse galloping. No man in 
his senses would make a horse gallop along that 
perilous cut. Bluebell could feel her father 
gathering himself, tightening his hold on the 
bridle and around her little body to a cruel 
clench. He leaned foiward and whispered, 

‘‘ H st! ” to the mare, and then shouted 

ahead : 

Look out there! 

The galloping horse, which they could see 
was riderless, plunged back and reared di- 


THE NAHEOWS 


79 


rectly in front of them. The Arabian recoiled, 
her hind feet went over the precipice, and she 
scrambled like a cat to hang on with her front 
hoofs and regain her hold. Father leaned to 
her neck — Bluebell felt almost crushed for an 
instant; then they were on the solid road, the 
riderless horse had dashed around the curve, 
and the agile Arabian, trembling in every limb, 
turned her head hack to throw the glare of her 
eye upon her master’s face. 

Well done! ” he said, patting her. 

She uttered an exultant neigh, and hurried 
forward with a quicker step. 

Did I hurt you? ” the doctor asked his lit- 
tle girl. 

No, sir,” she replied, breathing hard, but 
proud of having controlled herself in this sec- 
ond fright. There isn’t another horse in the 
world as smart as Bailie! ” 

She has brought me out of so many tight 
places,” said the doctor, I could trust my 
life to her. But I wish you were in bed.” 

I didn’t make any fuss! ” 

No,” said father, I’m glad you didn’t; 
you showed your old Irish pluck, the pluck of 


80 


EOCKY FORK 


your great-great-grandfather, old Sir James. 
During the Irish rebellion in the last century, 
rough mobs gathered with pikes at every 
bridge to spear men of his belief. 

‘‘ What’s a pike, father? ” 

A pole with a sharp knife on the end. 
Once when he came by with his followers the 
bridge was full, and he rode straight through, 
fighting them on all hands, and the rioters 
missed the pleasure of throwing his speared 
body in the stream.” 

It was right for him to fight, was it, 
father! ” 

‘‘It is right to meet any emergency with 
pluck, and overcome it.” 

Bluebell felt her heart swell. She deter- 
mined to show her Irish pluck in every emer- 
gency of life. 

The road broadened and a glare fell across 
it: they had reached the Furnace. The Fur- 
nace, which was called Mary Ann to distinguish 
it from other furnaces in the ore region, was 
an open brick building built into the hillside. 
It furnished an industry for many poor men. 
Here iron was melted, and the fires seldom went 


THE NARROWS 


81 


out. Even in sunny days smoke hung over the 
cluster of houses in a valley below, which was 
named from the Furnace, Mary Ann Post- 
office. 

It was a wonderfully picturesque sight which 
the riders came upon. A flare lit up the coal- 
dust road, and you could look between brick 
pillars at what seemed to be the centre of the 
earth on fire. Men passed to and fro, thrown 
into strong relief, and each one wore a 
red-flannel blouse known thereabouts as a 

wamus,’^ a name which probably came from 
‘‘ warm us the wamuses ’’ did not lessen 
the general effect. 

Bluebell felt excited. She did not miss a 
point of the picture. Her father, she thought, 
was like old Sir James riding through danger. 

But the doctor dismounted at once to serious 
business. One furnace-man tied his horse, and 
another gave Bluebell a seat on a stool behind 
one of the brick pillars. 

I met a horse galloping around the Nar- 
rows,’’ said Doctor Garde. 

’Twas Eli’s,” said a fumace-man. It 
throwed him just at this end of the Narrows, 


82 


EOCKY FOEK 


and went gallopin’ down to Mary Ann. And 
just a few minutes ago back it came on the 
homeward road. We tried to catch it, and that 
set it off on the run again. You had a pretty 
close shave of it, didn’t you. Doc? ” 

Very close,” replied the doctor. He went 
to his patient, who lay outside on a bed of 
coats. 

Bluebell sat quietly watching the fires and 
feeling sorry for the injured man when he 
groaned. She heard somebody say it might 
have gone worse with him, and that he was not 
badly hurt after all. Her head settled against 
the brick pillar, and the men came and went 
before her like figures in a dream. She won- 
dered if it were true, as John Tegarden said, 
that all the coal underground for rods around 
had been on fire since the old furnace burnt 
down some years before. He said horses’ feet 
sunk through and were in danger of burning 
off ! Then she heard frogs in the Eocky Fork 
singing their loudest, as if to drown the far- 
reaching cry of insects which make the summer 
night ring; and the cool wind and a smell of 
blossoming laurel rushed over her face. 


THE NAEROWS 


83 


But, waking next morning on her own bed, i 
she had not the least idea how she got there. 
Nor had she dreamed that the events of that 
finished day were to make a great change in 
her life. 


CHAPTER VII 


MISS MELISSA FURTHER DISAPPROVES OF THE ROCKY 
FORK 

IjlATHER had started on his rounds again 
when his daughter came down to break- 
fast, and Miss Calder and Liza were at table, 
talking politely. Liza wore a cool, faded lawn, 
one of her best afternoon dresses, over which 
her kitchen apron was tied. Miss Calder, with 
less of the sun in her blood, was in a black 
barege relieved by white sleeves and collar. 
Each woman seemed so sweet and fair in her 
way, that Bluebell hardly knew which to admire 
most. 

Liza settled the little girPs dress with a 
matronly twitch and fastened a loose hook or 
two: then poured out her glass of milk and 
helped her to bread and butter and fried 
chicken. 

“ You wonT want to go to school to-day, will 
you, Bluebell? she said. 

84 


MISS MELISSA DISAPPEOYES 85 


Bluebell? ” repeated Miss Calder, ques- 
tioningly. She is not commonly called Me- 
lissa? ’’ 

Well, no,’’ replied Liza apologetically; 
seems like her mother give her a kind of a 
pet name when she was a baby, because her 
eyes were so blue. But laws! they’re gray 
now to what they were before she had the 
whooping-cough. Whooping-cough is very 
hard on children. She had it two years ago, 
and so had Eocco, and I was worryin’ about 
them the whole summer.” 

Bluebell had been considering the sacrifice 
of a school-day. She thought of her head- 
marks, and the probability of Perintha Pan- 
cost or Tildy Banks accumulating wealth of that 
kind to her detriment, in her absence. She 
thought of the noon play, and the geography 
school excitement. Giving up school for 
the day, and for perhaps as many days as 
Miss Calder stayed, was a serious sacrifice. 
Still, what little girl could go otf to school 
when her friend was on a visit to the fam- 
ily? 

I won’t go,” said Bluebell, hoping Perin- 


86 


ROCKY FORK 


tha Pancost at least might not get the head- 
mark. 

You must not stay at home on my ac- 
count/’ said Miss Melissa. “ I want to see 
your school. Your father said he would be 
driving by that way in the afternoon and would 
fetch me home. ’ ’ 

But it’s so far!” cried the little girl 
eagerly. “ Can you walk all that way? ” 

I think I should enjoy it,” replied Miss 
Calder, smiling. I am quite a pedestrian.” 

Bluebell at once felt it was to be an impor- 
tant day. Teeny and Tildy Banks would be 
aides-de-camp in the march. She would show 
her friend otf before the school. Perintha Pan- 
cost needn’t take on airs about the geography- 
teacher. She could not remember when so dis- 
tinguished a visitor had honored the school. 
The whole pageant flashed before her mind, 
even to the finale when her father’s low-seated 
buggy would be whirled up before the step by 
Bailie, and Miss Calder disappear in a cloud 
of dust. 

So after breakfast they set out. Miss Me- 
lissa carrying a blotting-book to fill with flow- 


MISS MELISSA DISAPPROVES 87 


ers and ferns for her herbarium : a possession 
everybody should have, she informed Bluebell. 

Bluebell carried a most superior lunch — 
not in the calico bag, which smelled of stale 
bread-crumbs and had been used rather freely 
in getting the ‘‘ last tag of various girls on 
separating for the day — but in a willow hand- 
basket with lids, so cumbersome that she en- 
vied Teeny and Tildy when they sallied forth 
with their slim reticule. However, they had 
not company. 

‘ ‘ And how did you like the singing-school ? ^ ’ 
inquired Miss Melissa as she and Bluebell 
walked down toward the run. 

It was a g’ography school. Oh, it was so 
nice ! He had them sing the countries — I wish 
Rocco had waked Tore we started: I^d ^a^ 
learned it to her.’’ 

This country seems very romantic,” said 
Miss Calder, inhaling the air with delight. 
‘‘ But it needs cultivation. You should see the 
smooth, beautiful hills around Sharon.” 

‘‘ Is that where you live, ma’am? ” 

‘‘ Yes, that has been my residence all my 
life,” said Miss Calder with nice precision. 


88 


ROCKY FORK 


‘‘ And, my dear, you may, if you please, call 
me Aunt Melissa. Your mother called me Aunt 
Melissa.’’ 

Yes’m. Thank you,” murmured Bluebell. 
She was about to curtsy, but hesitated lest it 
might not be a suitable occasion. Aunt Me- 
lissa, is Sharon a great big place — as big as 
Fredericktown? ” 

I know nothing about Fredericktown. But 
Sharon is not a city. It is a delightful small 
town of about two thousand inhabitants.” 

Bluebell silently wondered who counted the 
people. She had vast respect for cities and 
towns. She could not imagine anything ill- 
kept or disgusting about a town. Presently 
they came to the run, and Miss Melissa uttered 
one or two exclamations as she staggered 
across the stones. 

“ This isn’t anything to the foot-log,” said 
Bluebell. But, oh, Aunt! wouldn’t it scared 
you last night if you’d been on Bailie when she 
slipped over the Narrows! It’s an awful steep 
place! ” 

“Yes,” said the lady, turning quite pale; 
“ the man who fetched me from the cars drove 


MISS JVIELISSA DISAPPEOVES 89 


along there. He assured me that there was no 
other road, or I never should have allowed 
it.’’ 

But there is another road.” 

‘ ^ He said there was none. And I have trem- 
bled ever since to think of returning. I trust 
your father does not ride that way often? ” 
Oh, yes, I guess he does.” 

Miss Melissa trembled now to think how soon 
the little speaker might become doubly or- 
phaned. 

‘‘ We rode that way last night,” repeated 
Bluebell, “ and a runway horse come by and 
pushed us off ! Bailie was all off but her fore 
feet. Aunt, and she just jumped back! I was 
scared,” she pursued, plodding along inno- 
cently, her dark bare arms dropping with their 
load of basket ; ‘ ‘ but I showed my Irish pluck 
and didn’t make any fuss. I didn’t make any, 
either, when father left me on Bailie and went 
in to Ridenour ’s. A man come along and made 
her plunge so she would have run away or 
throwed me otf if I hadn’t held tight! ” 

“ Indeed,” said Miss Melissa faintly. But 
a most determined look grew in her shocked. 


90 


EOCKY FORK 


affectionate face. The poor children/’ she 
ruminated, will not only have the bringing 
up of boys, but their very lives will be contin- 
ually endangered by their absorbed young 
father, if I do not interfere. ’ ’ 

‘‘You see we had to go to Mary Ann Fur- 
nace to ’tend to a man that fell over the Nar- 
rows and got hurt,” Bluebell went on; but by 
this time they had reached the Banks’, and 
Teeny and Tildy were waiting. 

Teeny walked beside Miss Calder, trying to 
feel quite a grown woman and striking her 
dignified heels against her own dress at every 
step ; but Tildy hung back and helped Bluebell 
with the basket. Tildy felt a motherly patron- 
age for the smaller girl. They were chums, 
though Bluebell’s arm had to reach up to Til- 
dy ’s waist, and Tildy ’s arm lay most comfort- 
ably on Bluebell’s shoulder. Whatever else 
might be in Tildy ’s disposition, she was a de- 
voted partisan. These friends seldom disa- 
greed. Bluebell accepted Tildy ’s solemn dic- 
tum with credulous readiness, and was usually 
her partner when the school marched, or in 
the delightful rainy-day game of “ Round and 


MISS MELISSA DISAPPEOVES 91 


round in a green sugar-tree, one cold and frosty 
morning. ’ ’ 

There were, however, two things which Bine- 
bell felt she could not yield to Tildy, and these 
were the spelling-prize, and their one disputed 

piece ’’ on Friday afternoon when speak- 
ing was in order. 

To be sure, there were plenty of other pieces 
which might have been added to their reper- 
tory, such as "" My bird is dead, says 'Nancy 
Ray/^ Tmnkle, twinkle, little star,^^ and I 
like to see a little dog/^ all fresh as the lips 
that mumbled them in class; but both Tildy 
and Bluebell would speak Mary had a little 
lamb,^^ or they wouldn’t speak anything! They 
both loved and doted on this piece: they not 
only knew it by heart, but each claimed it with 
a jealousy passing that of authorship. If Mr. 
Pitzer called Bluebell’s name first, she flew to 
the middle of the floor and shrilled Mary had 
a little lamh,^* with a triumphant wag of her 
head at Tildy. If Tildy had the first oppor- 
tunity, the case was reversed, and Bluebell, 
with a sense of injury, declined to contribute 
to the afternoon’s literary exercises. The 


92 


EOCKY FOEK 


sweet-hearted schoolmaster smiled at their 
weekly controversy, and perhaps the scholars 
got tired of the ever-recurring lamb; but the 
literary range of the school was not very wide, 
and there were other repetitions than Blue- 
bells and Tildy’s. 

The schoolward-going group this time walked 
with decorum past the downs. But Miss 
Calder made frequent pauses on mossy logs 
while the others brought her forage of ferns. 
They chewed sassafras leaves and peeled long 
withes of spicewood. She could see distant 
laurel heights through breaks in the woods, and 
they made a long detour to get her bunches 
of the pinky- white blossoms. So it was actu- 
ally late in the forenoon when they came to the 
foot-log by HalPs mill. Though Miss Melissa 
had walked with spirit, she shrank from the 
boiling Eocky Fork, and asked for the bridge, 
and even proposed going back rather than trust 
the giddy foot-log. But this was not to be 
heard of, and Teeny distinguished herself for 
firmness. She took tight hold of the fluttering 
lady^s hand, and Tildy walked behind steady- 
ing her by the dress. So after a tilt and a 


MISS MELISSA DISAPPROVES 93 


shriek or two, they brought her safely to the 
other side in time for her to witness BluebelPs 
intrepid passage of the log, laden with all the 
baggage of the party except the blotting-hook, 
which Tildy went back to bring. 

Then they all moved upon the mud-chinked 
school-house. Miss Melissa ^s gentle face ex- 
pressed a refusal to be reconciled to this as an 
institution of learning. She was a professor ^s 
daughter, and had spent her days in an aca- 
demic atmosphere. She had even taught in the 
Young Ladies’ Institute one year after her 
graduation, in order to ground herself more 
firmly in polite knowledge. This was a long 
time ago; but all her life her society had em- 
braced college-bred people. So to speak. Miss 
Melissa had never come in contact with the 
common schools of her native land. 

Mr. Pitzer got down from his desk and met 
them at the door; and Bluebell, who had been 
whispering over to herself all the way from the 
foot-log a formula of introduction, there kindly 
suggested by Miss Calder, turned red as the 
old-fashioned roses on the master’s desk, and 
felt her breath broken short by every beat of 


94 


EOCKY FOEK 


her heart. But she came out bravely with the 
introduction : 

Miss Pitzer, allow me to present you to 
Mr. Calder/^ 

Then she dropped her own curtsy and hid her 
face in her calico bonnet as she hung it up. 
For some of them would laugh, and she was 
wrapped in flames of mortification. 

However, Miss Calder made a grand impres- 
sion, and the schoolmaster walked back three 
steps to make his bow longer. Then he handed 
her to his chair on the platform, and he himself 
took a lower seat, leaving BluebelPs friend to 
appear the autocrat of the school. She looked 
around at the chinked walls and ink-splashed, 
knife-marked desks, at the sincere, reflective, 
bovine eyes which always distinguish country 
children — eyes that seem as full of woodsy 
sweets as the violets. And she looked at the 
flushed schoolmaster, who pushed his specta- 
cles quite into his hair, and puckered his mouth 
into very wise shapes while he went on explain- 
ing to Joe Hall and the big boy who ciphered 
with him a deep problem in common or vulgar 
fractions. It might have been that Mr. Pitzer 


MISS MELISSA DISAPPROVES 95 


was oat of his depth, though he was a great 
schoolmaster; or that the explanation was too 
pompous. Miss Calder’s eyebrows went up in 
the very least degree, though not for the world 
would this gentle creature have hurt the self- 
esteem of any one. After Joe Hall and the 
big boy had marked the extent of their next 
lesson with their thumb-nails, the schoolmaster 
said some learned things to Miss Calder about 
the importance of mathematics: and as this 
was a very apt class he hoped to take it through 
the book. And she asked him if the course em- 
braced Alegbra and Geometry, and was going 
on to mention Trigonometry and the Calculus, 
when she observed the poor schoolmaster grow 
red and stammer. He did not want to be put 
to shame before his pupils, but spoke out with 
a humble spirit: 

No, madam, my researches have never ex- 
tended so far.^’ 

And something in the old man’s tone touched 
her so keenly that she was shocked with her- 
self, and wondered if she, Melissa Calder, had 
been rude! Such a fear drove her to the ex- 
treme of kindness and gentleness. When the 


96 


EOCKY FOEK 


schoolmaster found she was a living and 
breathing graduate — alumnae were as scarce 
as authors then — his deference towards her 
became much greater. The true-hearted old 
gentleman loved knowledge; he begged that 
she would make a few remarks to the school, 
which would be much better than a continua- 
tion of the exercises. Miss Melissa blushed; 
but everybody who entered a school in those 
days felt bound to make remarks if called 
upon to do so. So Miss Melissa began : 

Young ladies and gentlemen’’ — which 
made the little boys giggle and nudge each 
other; but as her soft, fine, cultivated voice 
went on, they all listened and were drawn 
to her, except, perhaps, a few who thought 
Bluebell Garde felt herself proprietress of a 
lion. 

Bluebell felt indeed happy. Her reading- 
class was called after the schoolmaster beamed 
his satisfaction over Miss Melissa’s talk, and 
she read her loudest and glibbest. Then noon 
came on, and there never was a more delightful 
noon. The hot day brought rank, sharp smells 
from everything: even the dog-fennel along the 


MISS MELISSA DISAPPEOVES 97 


road yielded a pungent fragrance, and jimson- 
flowers were not to be despised. 

Miss Melissa was pressed into tbe swing by 
an ardent group, and flung up a few times 
among the leaves, where her white curls danced 
like sensitive spiral springs. And all the big 
girls sat around her to eat their dinners, and 
talked quite as if they had known her all their 
lives. But Perintha Pancost mimicked her be- 
hind a tree, and refused to be caught, when 
Bluebell Garde, the Blackman, patted her one, 
two, three, right on her back! Perintha also 
had brought the first summer pippins in 
her reticule, and she gave bites to every 
girl in school except Bluebell and Tildy 
Banks. 

The afternoon was devoted to festivity. Mr. 
Pitzer felt that so distinguished a visitor must 
be entertained. Miss Calder might disapprove 
of him, with everything else she had seen at 
Eocky Fork, but she could not help liking the 
old master. 

Pieces were spoke,’’ as a matter of course. 
Joe Hall, in a shrill, confident voice, told them 
he had 


98 


EOCKY FORK 


Stood beneath a hollow tree, 

The wind it hollow blew : 

He thought upon the hollow world 
And all its hollow crew ! 

without one misanthropic shade in his apple 
face. Two of the boys had a dialogue, in which 
a tiny Mr. Lennox looked up to a lubberly 
Peter Hurdle and told him he was a contented 
boy and quite a phil-os-o-pher. And two of the 
girls had a dialogue which sounded like one 
end of a telephonic conversation as it is heard 
nowadays; for one girl shouted that she had 
lost her thimble, Mary, and would you please 
lend her yours; in reply to which you heard 
only a murmur. There was quite a colloquy, 
and the silent girl evidently gave a great deal 
of good advice, but listen as you might you 
could only get it by inference from what the 
loud-voiced girl said. Then John Tegarden 
shouted The hoy stood on the burning decJc/^ 
until he came to the most exciting part, when 
his memory failed and he retreated mumbling 
and injured, not so much by the trick it had 
served him, as by Joe Hall, who ducked his 
head and imitated John’s slouching, disap- 


MISS MELISSA DISAPPEOVES 99 


pointed attitude. John picked some clay out 
of the wall and watched for an opportunity to 
shy it at Joe, but reflected that it might hurt; 
and being the tenderest-hearted boy in the 
world, he crumbled it slowly away and watched 
Teeny Banks lead out a group of embarrassed 
damsels and station them in a circle around 
herself, it being understood that she was the 
mother and these her daughters gathered in an 
easy family group to discuss the seasons. One 
declared her rhymed preference for Spring, 
another for Summer, a third for Autumn, and 
a fourth for Winter, when Teeny chimed in 
with a sweet monotone informing them that 
each season in its round held certain delights, 
and they must see the Creator’s hand in all. 

Well was it for Tildy and Bluebell that 
Mary’s disputed lamb was not called out that 
day. For Doctor Garde drove up just at this 
stage of the proceedings, and Miss Calder bade 
the schoolmaster adieu, and the schoolmaster 
went outside to see her in the buggy, the wind 
blowing the hair from his dear old forehead, 
while during his absence several charges of 
paper wads were exchanged across the house. 


100 


ROCKY FORK 


to the scandal of the big girls who picked the 
missiles from their hair or dresses, and with 
impressive shakes of the head threatened to 
‘‘ tell master.’^ 

There was too much electricity in the air, 
and the school was too boisterous to settle down 
to routine again that afternoon. All besought 
Mr. Pitzer to let them have spelling-school,’’ 
even Bluebell, who had declined riding home 
on account of her head-mark ; and the smiling 
schoolmaster consented. 

They decided to choose up and spell down,” 
instead of choosing across.” Then Joe Hall 
and Amanda Willey, being nominated by the 
schoolmaster, approached each other and took 
his ferule between them. Joe grasped it above 
Amanda’s hand, and Amanda grasped it above 
Joe’s hand, and this continued until Joe’s hand 
came last at the top. This result entitled him 
to the first choice ; and he and Amanda, taking 
their stations with backs against opposite 
walls, he chose : 

Bluebell Garde.” 


CHAPTEE VIII 


WHICH TKEATS OF THUMB-PAPEES 

"DLUEBELL GAEDE was deep in a discus- 
sion with Tildy Banks, and heard not her 
name till it was repeated. 

The conference had begnn while the master 
was out of doors bidding adieu to Miss Calder. 
The afternoon was so hot that little paper-fans, 
made of old book leaves and fastened in the 
middle with pins, were fluttering all over the 
house; the long windows and the door were 
wide open ; still a stifling heat made everybody 
feel aggressive. And at this unfortunate time 
Tildy made a discovery which she imparted to 
Bluebell in a harrowing whisper : 

P’rinthy Pancost’s got your thumb-pa- 
per! ” 

Bluebell looked across at Perintha. Then 
she grasped her own spelling-book and reader, 
and turned the leaves with a rapid swish, her 
eyes sparkling more at every turn. No thumb- 
101 


102 


EOCKY FORK 


paper reposed in any of its accustomed places. 
It was made of a leaf of Joe HalFs copy-book, 
and ornamented with birds which seemed to 
wear pantalettes. Bluebell was very neat with 
her books, which she loved as friends ; and not 
one word was erased by a sweaty little thumb- 
mark. And P’rinthy Pancost had stolen her 
thumb-paper! The school was swarming with 
thumb-papers. Every youngster in his hours 
of idleness employed himself folding bits of 
paper into the required shape, and it was an 
art, I assure you, which required skill. She 
could make, or accept from willing hands, a 
dozen others in as many minutes. But that was 
not the point. She had suffered spoliation, and, 
menacing Perintha Pancost, she cried out in a 
loud whisper: 

You give me back my thumb-paper! ” 

’TainT yours,’’ replied Perintha, cioolly 
unfolding it. This was a crowning insult. To 
unfold a thumb-paper was to destroy its indi- 
viduality and make it a mere square scrap. 

’Tis mine! ” 

’Tain’t! ” 

The master’ll whip you! ” 


TEEATS OF THUMB -PAPEES 103 


^‘Yah-yah!’’ taunted Perintha, whom the 
weather was reducing to impishness. 

Bluebell’s tears started, but she staunched 
them bravely with a corner of her apron. 

‘ ‘ Cry-baby cripsey ! ’ ’ whispered Perintha, 
leaning towards her. 

I’ll tell my Aunt Melissy on you! ” threat- 
ened Bluebell, feeling that this authority must 
crush her. 

But Perintha sniffed. 

“ Your Aunt Melissy ’s nobody’s daddy,” 
she said quite aloud, copying from the boys 
this strong phrase which was calculated effec- 
tually to put down upstarts. 

To be told that you were nobody’s daddy ” 
was to be robbed of all dignity and considera- 
tion in this world; it was a snub which the 
meekest and most peaceable must feel. But to 
have your great-aunt Melissa called nobody’s 
daddy ” was not only a family outrage, but 
an attack on the infallible dignity of all grown 
people. 

Bluebell shook her auburn head and whis- 
pered to Tildy, I’ll tell the master what she 
said! ” 


104 


EOCKY FOEK 


But Tildy, constituting herself second in the 
aifair, advised with head-shakings and dark 
looks that they deal with her themselves. 

‘‘ The master would just make her give you 
the thumb-paper, and he wouldnT do anything 
to her,’’ said Tildy, remembering how she had 
appealed to him against her enemies in vain, 
and had afterwards taken ample satisfaction 
with her nails. 

The master came in, and arrangements were 
made for the spelling-school, during which 
Bluebell returned to the grievance on her mind. 
“ Mary’s lamb ” was no wall of separation 
now. The dark head and the auburn head 
rubbed against each other. Perintha looked 
defiant, and was evidently making partisans of 
Minerva Eidenour and the other girls on her 
seat. 

Bluebell Garde! ” 

Bluebell started as Joe called her name the 
second time, and went to take her place with 
some pleasure in being chosen first among the 
good spellers. Perintha was chosen nearly last 
on tbe opposite side. I am afraid there was 
exultation over this under the auburn mass of 


TREATS OF THUMB -PAPERS 105 


hair. Joe Hall gave her a handful of wheat 
from his father’s mill to chew. Tildy was 
below the big boys and girls on Joe’s side, so 
there was no chance to confer with her, if the 
spelling code had not forbidden whispering. 
Bluebell, therefore, munched her wheat and 
gave herself up to the excitement of the occa- 
sion. 

They spelled across : that is, the schoolmas- 
ter, standing between, pronounced a word first 
to one side then to the other. Alas that little 
words should have slain so many! If he had 
begun in words of three syllables, many of them 
could have rolled the letters glibly. But among 
the ie’s and the ei’s Teeny Banks and half a 
dozen other big girl’s stranded. The lines 
thinned rapidly; those who missed, retiring to 
central benches and watching the fortunes of 
their sides with great anxiety. 

Fortune favored Perintha Pancost. Easy 
words came to her, and she stood among the 
last three on her side. Still, with J oe Hall and 
Bluebell Garde opposing, though they stood 
alone, what could her side expect? The contest 
waxed very hot; and constantly was Perintha 


106 


EOCKY FOEK 


Pancost favored with words she could spell. 
Her leader went down; her only other sup- 
porter went down. 

Then Bluebell found herself overflowed with 
a word that had ation ’’ in it, and Perintha 
spelling pertly at it stood an instant longer 
than she did. Of course it floored her, but she 
could now boast that for once she had out- 
spelled Bluebell Oarde ! 

Joe Hall stood up three lines longer, spelling 
tremendous-sounding words ; and when he 
tripped, there was such a storm coming up that 
the master said he would dismiss early that 
afternoon. 

Already the thunder could be heard echoing 
among the hills. The roll was hastily called. 
Tildy waited outside for Bluebell; under her 
slat bonnet the hair was clinging to her tem- 
ples, but the gloom of her eye and firm pucker 
of her mouth indicated fullness of purpose. 

When she comes out,’^ said Tildy. 

“ Yes,’^ said Bluebell, piteously, from the 
depths of defeat and injury and physical lassi- 
tude. 

Perintha ’s name came away down among the 


TREATS OF THUMB -PAPERS 107 


P ’s, and she was ranged accordingly on a bench 
which never got free as soon as the B’s and G’s 
on the girls ^ side. 

‘‘ When she conies out,’’ repeated Tildy, 
we won’t scratch her — ” 

Oh, no! ” exclaimed Bluebell. She could 
not bring her mind to that. 

Because the marks would show,” pursued 
Tildy; ‘‘ and we won’t whip her with sticks.” 

‘ ‘ The master might whip us ! ” exclaimed 
Bluebell in terror. She prided herself on never 
having been punished at school. And all teach- 
ers were not like Mr. Pitzer in those days. 

Yes, he might,” assented Tildy, evidently 
having foreseen that objection to the sticks; 
for when Mr. Pitzer had severe cause he could 
be strict as the strictest. 

‘ ^ But I tell you what we mil do, ’ ’ said Tildy, 
leaning forward and laying the utmost empha- 
sis on every word. She lifted her forefinger, 
and her reticule slid down to her elbow : 

^UWe will churn her! ” 


CHAPTEE IX 


THEY CHURN 


FLAEE of lightning in the northern sky 



may have frightened Perintha as she 
stepped over the sill; or she may have sus- 
pected an ambush at each side of the school- 
house. At any rate, a strong desire to he once 
more under her father ^s roof, gave swiftness 
to the little bare feet, and her pantalettes 
danced at a lively pace through the dog-fennel. 
Her black eyes gave one quick look behind, and 
after that look her reticule, like a swelling sail, 
stood straight backwards in the wind. But 
Tildy had her before she was more than 
screened by the fence of Martinis wheat-field. 

‘ ‘ Take hold of her other arm ! ’ ’ commanded 
Tildy. And Bluebell, panting, took hold. 

Now churn ! 

And they churned. Up and down they 
churned until it seemed all the buttermilk of 
Perintha ’s nature must go to the bottom and 


108 


THEY CHUEN 


109 


the pure butter of repentance stand up to be 
gathered by their correcting hands. So inter- 
ested in their undertaking were the reformers 
that Perintha^s cries and struggles seemed to 
make no impression on their senses. Their 
sun-bonnets hung by the strings around their 
throats, and their loosened hair switched up 
and down, keeping time to the churning. It 
was so absorbing a gymnastic performance 
that Bluebell felt Perintha must almost enjoy 
it, if she did strain to get away. 

The churners were brought to a pause by 
hands laid on their shoulders, and lo! there 
stood Mr. Pitzer with a following of half the 
school. Perintha ’s face came out of the crown 
of her sun-bonnet, all smeared with tears and 
curly hair, and the black-eyed, piteous look she 
threw up to the schoolmaster, cut Bluebell to 
the heart. 

Doctor Garde’s little girl was terrified to find 
herself in the positon of a culprit ; but this was 
endurable compared to the sudden rush of re- 
morse caused by Perintha ’s helpless look. She 
had been churning a malicious little imp, and 
behold here was the grieved face of her daily 


110 


EOCKY FOEK 


playmate ! All the pretty things Perintha had 
ever done, flashed before her. Perintha sent 
some tissue-paper birds to Eocco when Eocco 
was sick; yes, and she made the baby a set of 
pasteboard chairs in a box house. And what 
fragrant apples had come to Bluebell’s teeth 
from Perintha ’s reticule! She would always 
let you have the first swing, too ; and what did 
that old thumb-paper amount to? 

‘‘ She didn’t act so till I got mad to her 
first,” thought Bluebell, making one of the 
principal figures in a procession to the school- 
house, the master’s finger and thumb carrying 
the lobe of her ear. Tildy walked on the other 
side of him, her ear similarly supported. Pe- 
rintha, bidden to follow, sobbed as mourner 
behind them, and a sympathetic though silent 
crowd supported her. 

This, however, was dispersed at the door. 
The master waved all hangers-on away; and 
the nearer-rolling thunder gave them addi- 
tional warning. Even Teeny, after wavering 
with a concerned face around the windows, was 
obliged to take to the foot-log and leave these 
culprits to their fate. 



The principal figures in a procession to the schoolhouse. 

Pafje 110. 



THEY CHURN 


111 


Now, sir! said Mr. Pitzer, taking Ms 
judgment-seat. And the thunder rolled di- 
rectly overhead. When Mr. Pitzer said ‘ ‘ Now, 
sir,’’ to a girl, he had forgotten she was any- 
thing but a culprit. He took out the Rules of 
the School, and putting on his spectacles, and 
peering through the darkening air, read Ar- 
ticle Ninth : 

‘ ‘ Akticle Ninth : Pupils are under the ju- 
risdiction of their parents from the time they 
leave home until they appear upon the play- 
ground. But from the time they enter the 
school-house until they enter their parents^ 
door at night they are under the jurisdiction 
of the master, and accountable to him for all 
misdemeanors. 

His spectacles flared at the three. 

They ketched me and shook me up and 
down, and I wasn’t doin’ anything to them! ” 
burst out Perintha with a sob, leaving Article 
Ninth entirely aside from the question. 

She stole Bluebell Garde’s thumb-paper,” 
said Tildy, somber but collected. Her reticule 
dangled from her elbow, and her bare toes 
squirmed along a crack in the floor. Her face 


112 


EOCKY FOEK 


expressed determination coupled with a gloomy 
distrust in Mr. Pitzer’s ability to deal out jus- 
tice. A brisk rush of air came through the 
open window, which made the dear old man 
sneeze and take off his spectacles. Bluebell 
was weeping in the bottom of her apron, which 
she lifted to her face. 

I thought I was sh-showin’ my Irish 
pluck,” she broke out, wringing her small 
pink nose; but I guess I wasn^t! and it 
makes me feel so bad to think I hurt 
her! ” 

The master laid his hand on her head. The 
other hand he laid on Perintha’s. Tildy 
stepped back as if she feared he might have 
a third hand for her. 

‘‘ P’rinthy can have my thumb-paper,” con- 
tinued Bluebell; and I donT care for the 
other things, ’cause she was good to my little 
sister when my little sister was sick — and I 
got mad first.” 

There was now a hearty duet of sobs per- 
formed by Bluebell and Perintha. The latter 
thrust her arm up to the elbow in her pocket 
and drew out the most crumpled and defaced 


THEY CHUEN 


113 


of thumb-papers, which she held out to Blue- 
bell. 

Tildy put her nose up. She^d like to see her- 
self knucklin^ under, that way, to P’rinth’ 
Pancost or anybody else! ’’ 

But the master ^s face glowed in the gather- 
ing dimness: 

Let dogs delight to bark and bite. 

For His their nature to ; 

Let bears and lions growl and fight. 

For God hath made them so : 

But children, you should never let 
Your angry passions rise — ” 

One jagged knife of lightning, reflected on 
the school-house door, cut short his exhorta- 
tion. 

It^s going to storm,’’ he said, looking up 
as if the fact had just presented itself to him. 

You better all run home now, and try to be 
good friends hereafter.” He put up the Ar- 
ticles, took down his hat, and busied himself 
shutting the windows. He paused to say. 

Good-evening,” three separate times as the 
three went out curtsying to him for the second 
time that evening. 


114 


EOCKY FORK 


Tildy stalked straight toward the foot-log. 
Perintha paused after turning her bonnet ^s 
mouth homeward, and twisted back, looking at 
the ground. 

Good-bye, Bluebell. I^m going to bring 
you some pippins to take to your Aunt Melissy 
to-morrow.’’ 

This was equivalent to a full apology, and 
Bluebell hastened to acknowledge it. 

‘ ‘ Goody ! will you ? ’ ’ 

Yes,” said Perintha, lifting her still wet 
lashes. 

The two little girls looked into each other’s 
eyes and smiled. It was a treaty of peace. 
Then a cloud of dust travelling up the road 
enveloped them; Perintha scudded away with 
it, and Bluebell, her mouth and eyes filled, ran 
towards the Rocky Fork after Tildy ’s retreat- 
ing figure. 


CHAPTER X 


MOTHER OUTDOORS DISTURBED 

‘ ‘ \J^ AIT, Tildy ! ’ ’ called Bluebell, when she 
^ reached the foot-log and saw a figure 
climbing the heights beyond. 

The wind may have carried her voice away, 
for it almost blew her off the log, and a tramp- 
ling sound far off, like the rush of an army of 
giants through the woods, filled one’s ears. 
The heavy basket caught on bushes as Bluebell 
scrambled up the rocky path, and tired her 
hands, while Tildy ’s reticule sailed straight 
on. 

Oh, Tildy, wait! ” panted the little girl. 
Among the windings, or in some short cut, Til- 
dy ’s figure ever and anon appeared and disap- 
peared, and Bluebell faced the storm alone. 
How black its gloom was in the woods! The 
very rocks and trees which had been smiling 
landmarks so long, seemed strange and threat- 
116 


116 


EOCKY FOEK 


ening. A quick patter caught her, and then a 
deluge mixed with frightful glares and deaf- 
ening roars burst over the world. The trees 
rocked and twisted, and just ahead of her she 
saw one tall chestnut bend as if swooning, and 
fall across the way with a long, sublime, whis- 
tling crash. Even in her terror Bluebell heard 
and felt that wonderful cry of the falling tree 
which cannot be forgotten. The splinters of its 
broken trunk stood up like pale yellow icicles 
in the air. She made a detour among hazel- 
bushes to pass it, and ran along the path, trem- 
bling in every nerve, yet under her fear delight- 
ing in this revolution which had overtaken 
Mother Outdoors. The warm summer rain 
dripped from every thread of her clothing and 
soaked her body in its delicious bath. The 
footway turned into a miniature canal; and 
every tree-trunk stood in startling blackness 
against the general gloom. Before the first 
dash had quite thinned its gray sheet to sprin- 
kles, that far-off tramping arrived in earnest; 
the storm pelted and poured; the lightning 
flashed in her very eyes, and its answering 
thunder was instantaneous ; a tree swept down 


MOTHER OUTDOORS DISTURBED 117 


here carrying others with it; and there two 
went down together, until the whole woods 
seemed cracking and wailing around her. 

With streaming garments, and shoes that 
spurted water at every step, the little girl still 
ran ahead. She could scarcely see the downs 
when she passed them, but they appeared 
dimly, like the desert islands in Mr. Runnel’s 
maps. Again and again the lightning seemed 
barely to miss her, and she jumped as the thun- 
der crashed around her ears. She ran until 
she was out of breath, and then panted along 
among the drenched ferns. In spite of the con- 
fusion and loneliness and closing darkness, 
there was exhilaration in the warm, soaking 
rain. 

It ceased to pour as she passed down the 
slope ; the wind lulled ; and through openings 
she could see distant long dark threads stretch- 
ing from cloud to earth, then suddenly disap- 
pearing. The confusion in the woods died 
away. But there was no clearing up, no emer- 
ald flash of wet grass in the setting sun; no 
rapid drying of branches and laugh of leaves. 
The rank, fresh smell of wet earth was mingled 


118 


EOCKY FORK 


with scents from the peppermint that bordered 
the run below, bnt the faintest suggestion of 
old dead leaves came with them. The lightning 
retired toward the horizon and threw a silent 
or distantly answered dazzle through the woods 
once in awhile. And night was coming early 
without any sunset. 

Bluebell saw a man advancing through the 
bushes, drawing showers upon himself at every 
step. She reflected that it was not far to 
Banks’ now, and if he tried to carry her oft 
they could hear her scream ; so she trotted for- 
ward, a desirable object to kidnap, her shape- 
less bonnet hanging around her neck, which it 
discolored with its strings, her dress and pan- 
talettes clinging to every line of her vigorous 
little figure. Still the man paused to parley 
with her, and his parleying consisted in offer- 
ing her two fingers of his left hand and turning 
back. 

Oh, father, I’m ’most drowned! And the 
woods fell down! ” 

It’s been a hard storm,” said father. He 
had a closed umbrella in his right hand. 
Branches and underbrush would interfere with 


MOTHER OUTDOORS DISTURBED 119 


it if open here. He paused, setting it against 
a tree, and reached down to his little girl. 

Perhaps I’d better carry you.” 

Oh, father. I’m wet as sop.” 

He lifted her up and took his umbrella. He 
had on his gum coat and boots which he wore 
over ordinary clothing when riding in the teeth 
of storms. 

Bluebell threw one arm across his shoulder, 
from which dangled the big basket. 

That might have been left at the school- 
house,” said father. 

It’s Liza’s,” said Bluebell, and all the 
rain has rained through it and through my 
dinner cloth.” 

‘ ‘ I might have brought it in the buggy. Did 
you get across the Rocky Fork before the 
rain? ” 

Yes, sir. And Tildy ran on ahead.” 

She was progressing royally down the slope, 
rained on by every branch, but so comfortable 
right by father’s light, long locks. He moved 
sure-footed from stone to stone. The dark was 
closing around them. The cry of frogs and of 
the disconsolate cows came up from low places 


120 


EOCKY FOEK 


in tlie valley. But Doctor Grarde’s little girl 
had the task of telling her father she had ‘ ‘ been 
called up by the master ’’ that day. His code 
was stem. He had told her if she received 
punishment at school and came home with com- 
plaints, she would be punished again. Blue- 
bell was very proud of her standing and integ- 
rity at school. The closing night seemed so dis- 
mal. What would he say if he knew she was 
called up ! 

She cuddled her free hand under his ear 
to have some vantage ground, and broke 
forth : 

‘‘ I churned PTinthy Pancost, father! ’’ 

‘‘ Did you? How do you play that? 

‘‘ We didnT play, father. We did it a-pur- 
pose, Tildy and me. We had a failin’ out. 
And the master called me up after school ! ’ ’ 

Father walked on with the low pine-like 
whistle under his breath. 

But we made up,” his little girl went on, 
unwilling to enter into the enormity of Perin- 
tha’s sin against Aunt Melissa; ‘‘and she’s 
going to bring apples to-morrow.” 

“ That’s right,” said father. “ Always 


MOTHER OUTDOORS DISTURBED 121 


treat your little mates kindly, and obey the 
master.’’ 

Yes, sir,” assented Bluebell, giving his 
neck a little squeeze. I do like the master, 
father. I guess I’m going to take the prize in 
our class in spelling! ” 

Father delivered a short whistle, and looked 
around into her face, smiling. This signi- 
fied that he was pleased. It was his note 
of acclamation over his daughter’s achieve- 
ments. 

I don’t thinh anybody else has near as 
many head-marks as I have. Father, won’t it 
be polite for me to go to school while Aunt Me- 
lissa ’s here? Can’t I go in the afternoons, 
anyhow? ” coaxingly. 

Do you like to go so well? ” 

Oh, yes, sir! We have such fun noons. 
And somebody else would get my head- 
marks! ” 

He did not reply at once, and they came by 
Banks’s house. The candle was lighted, a 
smell of supper came forth; and Tildy in dry 
clothes was standing at the door. 

<< Why didn’t you wait? ’’ called Bluebell. 


122 


EOCKY FORK 


I couldn’t,’’ said Tildy, tartly. 

P’rinthy’s goin’ to bring some apples to- 
morrow,” assured Bluebell. 

But Tildy sniffed. Some folks is awful 
thick, all at once,” she commented. 

Bluebell looked down at her father’s ear, 
and wondered why it was mean to make up 
with folks. 

Tildy ’s mother came to the door, drawn by 
the sound of voices, and looked out anxiously. 
She was a very tall, ungainly woman, bent in 
the shoulders, with gray, black-lashed eyes 
which Tildy ’s were like. She wore a clinging 
black calico. Her face was care-worn but very 
motherly. Bluebell knew that her husband was 
dead, that he had worked at the Furnace in the 
winter, and in the summer farmed his own land, 
which lay along the valley between the hills 
and the run. He must have been a pleasant 
man, for he was cousin to Liza at home. Mrs. 
Banks’s name was also Eliza; and the neigh- 
bors to distinguish them called this one ‘‘ Rob- 
ert’s Liza.” 

Did she get hurt? ” cried Robert’s Liza, 
when she made out the doctor’s arm-load. 


MOTHER OUTDOORS DISTURBED 123 


Not a bit/’ he replied, facing around and 
smiling. 

Come in and have some tea or something 
before you go on, do! Tildy was a sop, and 
I expect Bluebell’s wetter yet. Teeny got 
home before the trees began to fall, but 
I’ve been that frightened about the chil- 
dren! ” 

‘‘ We han’t stop,” said the doctor. I have 
to start out when I get back with this soaked 
pappoose. The run’s rising, Liza. You’d do 
well to take your crocks out of the milk-house 
to-night. ’ ’ 

I’ll do that,” said Liza; but do you mind 
the Rocky Fork, Doc — it’s dreadful when it 
gets up.” 

Oh, never mind me,” replied Bluebell’s 
father. He plashed on down the slope with 
her; and through the humid dusk Bluebell 
heard the run boiling, along with a sound of 
the Rocky Fork itself, which was quite outside 
its banks, muddy and angry; and she could 
not be sure that certain eddies did not swirl 
above the buried stepping-stones. But father 
seemed sure of it, for he put his feet through 


124 


EOCKY FOEK 


the eddies, and then the water reached the 
ankles of his gum boots. He stepped firmly 
up on the meadow green, and during that short 
interval between the run and the bars, con- 
densed all that he had meant to say to his little 
girl during the walk. 

Put me down now, father,’^ she said. 

Ain’t you tired I ” 

He put her down and gave her two of his 
fingers again, while he took the basket. Two 
fingers just filled her grasp. 

How do you like to live at the Eocky 
Fork? ” 

This question surprised her so she looked up 
at him; but his face was a white blur in the 
general dimness. 

“ Would you rather live in the town where 
your Aunt Melissa does, and go to a fine 
school? ” 

The prospect was like a dazzling flash to 
Doctor Harde’s little girl, through even this 
gloomy weather. 

Oh, yes, sir! I’d like to live there! But ” 
— with a rising pang — “Mr. Pitzer is so 
good, and he let us have spelling-school this 


MOTHER OUTDOORS DISTURBED 125 


very afternoon. Do they have mountain-tea 
there? 

Probably not. So youVe been happy up 
here in the hills, have you, Bluebell? 

“ Yes, sir.’’ She could barely remember a 
home in a city, and one pillared church where 
music was made by unseen people. She had 
been happy, and the Rocky Fork was the only 
place she had lived in. 

‘‘ Miss Melissa has been speaking to me,” 
said the doctor. “ I can’t attend to Rocco and 
you as your mother would have done. I want 
to be a good father. ’ ’ There was an unusually 
tender tone in his voice. 

‘‘ Why, father,” exclaimed Bluebell, climb- 
ing up the bars, so she could take him around 
the neck when he lifted her over, ‘‘ you’re such 
a nice, nice man! I don’t think anybody could 
be gooder ; I would be so sorry if you was any- 
body else ! I like you, father ! ’ ’ 

He laughed half under his breath, and got 
over the bars with her. 

‘‘ My daughter flatters me.” 

’Deed, father, I’m in such earnest! ’Deed 
and double-deed! ” 


126 


ROCKY FORK 


All! Well! Miss Melissa was a great 
friend of your mother ^s, and I think she has 
some right to advise about the future of you 
children. You must be educated.^’ 

Bluebell imagined herself an educated, fault- 
less woman like Aunt Melissa ! 

While she was imagining, her father lifted 
her up again and kissed her, saying as he set 
her down, ‘ ‘ Run right in now to Liza. She has 
dry clothes and a nice supper ready for you.’’ 


CHAPTER XI 


BLUEBELL MAKES A POEM 

TN the night Bluebell was wakened by the 
cherry boughs scraping her window — and 
how they did scrape ! The rain was tramping ; 
it beat the house and roared on the shingles; 
the pines were making a high, thrilling noise 
which she did not know was like the voice of 
the sea. All within was so dry and comfort- 
able; all without so muddy and dark. Yet off 
in the woods there were sweet smells, and 
birds’ nests tucked in forked branches, and the 
May-apples were rank, and even old rotten 
logs crumbling to yellow dust had a pungent 
odor of their own. What did the birds do in 
a storm? Did they turn their tails down like 
chickens? And how did the naked birds that 
were all furry bill and sprawling limbs like 
the baby swallows under the shed-eaves, get 
along? 

Father, on his night-ride, was the thread on 
127 


128 


EOCKY FORK 


which these thoughts were strung. She thought 
of him first, and he ran through everything else. 
Bailie’s firm, quick step was moving on distant 
roads; the pill-bags were fastened behind the 
saddle ; father whistled softly between his 
teeth ; and anxious people looked into the storm 
for him. It scarcely occurred to Bluebell to 
wish him indoors. He and rough weather were 
old acquaintances. She had seen him come to 
the open fire stamping, the frost in his hair, or 
take off cloth leggings covered with mud, or 
stiff-frozen from the ford. What did he care 
for summer-rain, housed as he was too, in rub- 
ber coat and boots, and on the most sensible 
horse in the world! Bluebell decided to ask 
Liza if she might not put on her very oldest 
dress and stand under the eaves where the 
water ran over in a constant shower. 

But in the morning everything looked so 
dreary and soaked that she did not care to do 
it. Clouds scudded close to the earth ; the hill 
above the house showed black under its foliage ; 
the elder-flowers by the rock play-house were 
beaten to the ground; and hollyhocks in the 
garden leaned down as if about to swoon. The 


BLUEBELL MAKES A POEM 129 


cherry-leaves had a higher polish and intenser 
green, but little unripe apples strewed the 
orchard. 

Doctor Garde had not come home. Liza said 
she did not expect him before night. In very 
bad weather she had known him to be gone 
two or three days. Still, she kept some warm 
chicken in the old-fashioned Dutch oven before 
the fire while she did her baking. 

The air was oppressive. But Miss Melissa 
moved around wrapped in a thick shawl. Liza 
took the roses out of her fireplace and started 
a warmer color dancing over some sticks. The 
low-scudding clouds began to pour again. 

Bluebell spent the morning with Miss Calder 
making doll-clothes, and wondering if Tildy’s 
mother let her go to school. Only a few of the 
children who lived nearest would be there, for 
so many had to cross the numerous bends and 
turns of the Eocky Pork. They would have to 
play in the house if it did not clear before noon, 
and the tracks of the boys ’ bare feet would look 
so funny on the floor. To-day seemed years 
removed from yesterday. This was a bit of 
dingy autumn thrust through a summer day. 


130 


ROCKY FORK 


Bluebell enjoyed the dress-making with zest, 
but she hoped it would clear. 

Rocco had her high chair drawn to the 
kitchen table, and helped Liza with the baking. 
Her tow hair was braided back, the ends turned 
up and tied with black thread, and her slim 
claws as clean as soap and water could make 
them. She had BluebelPs little rolling-pin and 
baking tins and Liza’s thimble before her. 
Liza was making caraway seed-cake ; she 
watched the baby fondly, giving her dabs of 
dough which Rocco rolled out, cut up and 
placed in her tins. As soon as they were baked 
she divided them evenly on two saucers; for 
Rocco never ate any treat of which Bluebell did 
not have exactly half. She had been known to 
keep a mellow apple or pear from morning till 
dusk when Bluebell came home; smelling it 
and turning it over wistfully, but waiting its 
division. 

The rain poured while they ate dinner. 

“ It comes down by bucketfuls,” said Liza. 
“ I do hope Abram will get round and look 
after Liza-Robert ’s stock. Lambs is so simple, 
and hers are always gettin’ into the run.” 


BLUEBELL MAKES A POEM 131 


Why doesn’t she let her farm to a ten- 
ant? ” suggested Miss Calder. 

Well, that’s not the way around here. 
Abram, he’s her brother-in-law and my first 
cousin; he lives about half a mile above us, 
and he ’tends to things for her. Liza’s no man- 
ager.” 

Soon after dinner Miss Melissa lay down for 
her daily nap. Georgiana sat on the sitting- 
room mantel in an incomplete gingham dress, 
smiling on the weather with unchanged seren- 
ity. Liza went up garret to do a small ^ ‘ stent ’ ’ 
of spinning. She always spun on dismal after- 
noons when the needle would lag in sewing. 
She knit winter stockings for the family. Blue- 
bell and Eocco followed her, and the wheel 
could be heard soon after the children’s feet 
ceased sounding on the stairs. 

When the children’s feet ceased sounding on 
the stairs, they were in the garret. It was one 
big dusky room, extending over the whole 
house, with a chasm in the floor through which 
the stairs came up. At each side the roof 
sloped so that even Eocco might knock her 
head. There were windows in the gables ; and 


132 


EOCKY FOEK 


from all the rafters hung dried peppers, penny- 
royal, ears of seed-corn, bags of seed, and sage, 
and of dried raspberries, and blackberries, 
cherries, and peaches, for in those days the 
art of canning fruit was not generally known 
to housewifery. Liza’s special jams and pre- 
serves stood along a system of shelves, in stone 
jars, broken-nosed tea-pots and flowered bowls 
tied up closely with white cloths. The floor 
was clean and dustless. A retired rocking- 
chair which had lost one rocker in the battle 
of life, was settled in one corner where it 
lived on a pension of the children’s favor. For 
right by it was their mother’s old trunk, the 
black and white hair worn off it in patches, 
leaving a tough hide exposed. 

In this casket Bluebell kept many of her play- 
things and all her most precious books. She 
had ‘‘ Emma and Caroline,” a paper-book 
some three inches square, a diminutive Mother 
Goose, several histories, and a work on geology 
suitable to advanced students which her father 
had brought her, and her school prizes — nota- 
ble among them a pink-backed volume of Dr. 
Watts’s hymns which she had learned by heart. 


BLUEBELL MAKES A POEM 133 


Here also reposed her last Sunday-school book, 
which had rather harrowed her mind; for it 
was the Memoir of Jane Ann Smith, who 
caught fire and burned to death; the picture 
of Jane Ann running out of the mill door all 
on fire, was put in as a lively frontispiece. 
There were almost no books for children in 
those days. Hannah Morels tracts and mem- 
oirs of very pious people constituted the li- 
brary from which Bluebell and all the other 
little Eocky Forkers chose ; if it could be called 
choosing when the librarian held the backs of 
an armload of books towards you, and you 
might pick out only one at a hazard. Bluebell 
had found one delicious story of a little girl 
whose uncle came and took her away to India 
where she had no end of wonderful times. But 
most of the books were grown-up, or very seri- 
ous, or consisted of advice to young English 
servants when starting out to service. So 
Bluebell unfolded from its wrappings with 
tremulous delight that real fairy-book, Tales 
from Catland which Aunt Melissa brought 
her. It was a book with some long words in 
it, but even these were a sonorous pleasure; 


134 


EOCKY FOEK 


the Countess Von Eustenfustenmustencrusten- 
berg, Grandmagnificolowsky, the tall page, 
Glumdalkin, the cross cat, Friskarina, the ami- 
able cat. Bluebell settled into the one-sided 
rocker, and lived in castles and woods and pal- 
aces, while the rain beat the shingles directly 
overhead as if it were playing thousands of 
small castanets, and Liza’s wheel sang high or 
low. 

Eocco sat down on the front of a small flax- 
wheel which worked with a treadle, and af- 
forded the baby just sitting-room, to watch 
Liza spin. 

The great wheel stood in the centre of the 
garret; on its long bench lay a pile of wool- 
rolls. Liza took hold of the end of a roll, at- 
tached it to the spindle in some mysterious 
manner, and turned the wheel around and 
around and around with a smooth stick which 
she called her wheel-pin. The spokes seemed 
to approach each other, then melted together 
into a transparency, the hum rose higher and 
higher until it became a musical scream, and 
Liza stepped back drawing her roll off the 
spindle into a long woolly thread. Back and 



Liza stepped back, drawing her roll off the spindle into 
A LONG WOOLLY THREAD . — Page 134 . 




BLUEBELL MAKES A POEM 135 


forth she moved, from the spindle to the gable 
window; now hurrying up the wheel, and now 
letting it sing, as it seemed, away down in the 
sloping bench which supported it. 

The rain rained on. Bluebell forgot her 
head-marks. When she had read two stories 
and let the Cat-book sink to her knees, her 
imagination was so stimulated that she craved 
half-unconsciously to make a story herself. 
But Liza’s wheel put rhythm into her head, 
and Liza’s presence mixed the practical with 
the purely ideal. 

For a long time she sat and thought, con- 
strained to form into shape what she had in 
her mind; and if the thing itself was simple 
and the shape grotesque, many an author since 
Bluebell will confess to having given very poor 
expression to the finest inspiration. 

I believe it’s going to quit raining,” said 
Liza as a very pale ray slanted through the 
window and shone on the point of the spin- 
dle. 

She pulled out the last roll and stopped her 
wheel. 

‘‘ What’s that noise? ” 


136 


EOCKY FOEK 


It seemed to be some one knocking perse- 
veringly at the kitchen door. Liza gave the 
wheel one more vigorous turn and finished her 

stent before she started down. 

I expect iVs Abram/ ^ she said. ‘‘ Don’t 
let Eocco fall down the stairs, Bluebell, and 
don’t play with my spinning.” 

‘‘ No, ma’am, I won’t.” 

Eoused from the spell which wheel and book 
had cast, the children turned to each other for 
a romp. 

Bluebell paused impressively as she caught 
the little sister in her arms, and proceeded to 
make a confidant of her. 

Honey-dew, sisser’s made a pretty piece ! ” 

‘ ‘ Piece 0 ’ what ? ’ ’ 

‘‘ Poetry! Like ‘ Poor Jane Eay ’ and 
‘ Twinkle, twinkle. ’ ’ ’ 

Eocco heard these standards of literary ex- 
cellence mentioned without any emotion. 

I’ll say it to you.” 

‘‘ Le’s p’ay,” suggested Eocco instead. 

It’s somethin’ pretty — about Liza,” urged 
the poet, tasting the first difficulties of securing 
a public. 


BLUEBELL MAKES A POEM 137 


Bocco paused in the mad-career of a tumble 
and consented to listen. 

See that pretty maiden,” 

O' That’s Liza, you know,” explained Blue- 
bell,) 

" Spinning in the rain ” 

" ’Tain ’t wainin’,” said Eocco; " it’s twit.” 
" It was, though. Now you just listen: 

" See that pretty maiden, 

Spinning in the rain : 

The wheel goes round and round to make 
Our stocking-yarn again. 

'' The wind goes roar and roar. 

The wheel roars with its band ; 

The maiden turns it with a pin 
For fear she might hurt her hand.” 

" Isn’t that pretty? ” 

Eocco meditated. The subject of poetry had 
aroused other thoughts within her; and the 
faculty of association carried her on from a 
hymn Liza frequently sung to her — 

On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand. 

And cast a wistful eye 
On Canaan’s fair and happy land 
Where my possessions lie — ” 


138 


EOCKY FOEK 


to the family who represented the idea to her. 
So without making any comment on BluebelPs 
poem, she said decidedly, 

I want to go to Jordan Stormy Banks’s 
house.” 


CHAPTER XII 


JOEDAN STOEMY BANKS 

A LL well as common, Liza? inquired 
Abram, knocking the mud oil his feet 
at the kitchen door. 

Yes,’^ she replied, but with a shade of 
anxiety. The doctor hasnT got home yet. 
Come in, Abram. Have you been over the 
run? ’’ 

I guess I wonT come in,’^ said the farmer. 
He was large-framed, stooping, and clothed in 
homespun wool of an indescribable dull color. 
His wamus was belted in ; his broad, slouching 
hat showed several holes. He placed a hand 
on each side of the doorway and leaned in while 
he talked. Yes. IVe been over there. Liza- 
Robert came nigh to losin’ her milk-house last 
night. The milk-lids was afloat and the spring 
is clear under water.’’ 

Tuh! tuh! ” ejaculated Liza. And I ex- 
pect the Rocky Fork is clear out of its banks. ’ ’ 

139 


140 


EOCKY FOEK 


I should say it was/’ imparted Abram 
deliberately. “ It’s balf-way up the Nar- 
rows and all over the meadow t’other side. 
Table Eock came down in that blow yester- 
day! ” 

Liza uttered a cry. Table Eock had over- 
hung the Narrows ever since her memory 
began. 

Hall’s mill has been carried off and lodged 
in the bottom-lands. The stone’s sunk and the 
frame’s split in two or three pieces.” 

‘‘ Why, Abram! ” 

Yes, it’s consider ’ble high waters. The 
Eidenours was out in a canoe over their corn- 
field this mornin ’. ’ ’ 

How’s Elil ” 

Doin’ well, as far as I know.” 

The doctor said he’d maybe have to stay 
by him a while last night. Seems like he was 
threatened with inflammation.” 

If Doc’s t’other side of the Fork he’ll not 
ford it for a while. It’s all ’round the school- 
house. WTlley told me this mornin’ Mr. Pitzer 
couldn’t take up school till the water went 
down again. That g’ography man’ll have to 


‘‘JOEDAlSr STOEMY BANKS 141 


put off his doin’s, too. There’s a sight of tim- 
ber down on the hill. I don’t know when we’ve 
had such a storm.” 

‘‘ Did it do you any damage? ” 

Well, no. Uprooted a few apple trees. 
That’s about all. Any chores you’d like done 
out doors? ” 

I’m much obliged to you, Abram, but there 
isn’t anything. The cows always come up to 
the bars. I s’pose Samantha’s well? ” 

So’s to be around. The children’s folks 
have come to see ye, have they? ” 

‘‘ Yes, it’s a kind of an adopted aunt of their 
mother’s.” 

‘‘ Well,” said Abram, taking his hands off 
the sides of the door, I must get on toward 
home.” 

He came back after going a few steps. 

I’ll look in again before night, Liza.” 

I’d be obliged if you would, Abram.” 

Neither spoke of feeling anxious about the 
young doctor. Still Liza girded herself more 
cheerfully to go out and gather her demoralized 
poultry. A primrose-colored west brightened 
the whole landscape. The beaten-down grass 


142 


EOCKY FOEK 


had already begun to lift itself, and a pleasant, 
drying breeze was flowing down the valley. 
The broken clouds drifted to all parts of the 
sky. Liza gathered drenched and gaping chick- 
ens into her apron, where they trod upon each 
other with cold pink feet, and piped shrilly for 
food and comfort. She had a special basket 
behind the stove for these weather-orphans, 
where their down would curl once more, and all 
of them subside into a buttercup-colored mass, 
too sleepy to peep. There was one chicken that 
ran persistently through the weeds away from 
her, yet calling with all his might for aid from 
some quarter. He stretched his thin neck here 
and there and disconsolately shook his pin- 
feather wings. Now lost in a forest of rag- 
weed, he made the tops quiver over him as he 
ran; and now slipping through the garden 
palings, he scampered dismayed up and down 
the bank of a deep canal, the channel whereof 
he had known before the deluge as a neat gar- 
den path between beds of vegetables. Liza 
reached through and gathered him to the asy- 
lum in her apron just as she observed Bluebell 
picking her way to the lower bars. The run 


‘‘JORDAN STORMY BANKS 143 


was roaring through the meadow, and she rose 
up apprehensively. 

“ Don’t go down to the water, Bluebell. You 
can’t cross now.” 

“ But Tildy’s on the other side and beckoned 
to me : I just want to talk across to her. ’ ’ 

“I’m afraid you’ll fall in if you go too near. 
Remember the run’s up.” 

“ I’ll be careful. Tildy can’t come over, and 
she does want to see me so had! ” 

“ You’ve both been weather-bound,” said 
Liza smiling. “ Well, you be careful. Where’s 
the baby? ” 

“ She’s talking to Aunt Melissa. I gave her 
my new doll to hold. ’ ’ 

Precious as little sisters may be, there are 
times when the mature girl of nine or ten feels 
that she cannot have them “ tagging ” after 
her ; when she gives them a sop in the shape of 
her best plaything, or engages them in conver- 
sation with some elderly and charming rela- 
tive, while she slips out to gallop where heed- 
less baby shoes would have to be carried. 

Tildy had been signaling at the other side 
of the run for some time. 


144 


EOCKY FOEK 


Bluebell ran down the wet meadow, feeling 
joyful at being out of doors once more. The 
hills were half smiling. She could not help 
noticing how the trees tossed. In the south- 
west was a cushion of foliage so large, so green, 
so apt to dimple with the wind, that the little 
girl never could help wishing to sit and tumble 
about on it. 

The run showed wide and turbid from the 
back door, but on near approach it seemed a 
ranting young river. Sticks and even rails 
were being eddied away by what was day 
before yesterday a few strands of clear 
water. 

How wide was the separation between Blue- 
bell and Tildy ! 

Eesentment of the Perintha Pancost truce 
had been swept from Tildy ^s face by later 
occurrences. 

‘‘We can’t go to school any more,” she 
called. 

“ Oh, yes, we can when the waters go down.” 

“ The’ won’t be any school-house. The 
Eocky Fork’s all around it. Our spring-house 
pretty near went, and if the run rises much 


‘‘JORDAN STORMY BANKS’^ 145 

higher it’ll carry off our house and your house, 
too.” 

Bluebell looked back at the weather-beaten 
homestead. 

“ It would look like Noey’s Ark. But it 
says there isn’t to be another flood, Tildy, 
’cause the rainbow’s put in the sky for a sign 
that the waters shall no more cover the face of 
the earth ! ’ ’ 

“ Hain’t been any rainbow this wet spell,” 
said Tildy impressively. 

Bluebell searched the whole sky, and brought 
her eyes down again clouded with apprehen- 
sion. There had been no rainbow this wet 
spell. 

“ I don’t believe it will rise to the roofs of 
the houses and the tops of the mountains, ’ ’ she 
cried, with an upward inflection of appeal. 

“ I wish’t it would. Then you could sit on 
your roof and I could sit on mine, and sail 
sticks and boats across to each other. I’ve 
been havin’ lots of fun with mother’s old bread- 
bowl. Why didn’t you come down soon as it 
quit rainin’! I beckoned to you.” 

“ I didn’t see you. Where’s Teeny! ” 


146 


EOCKY FOEK 


She’s helpin’ mother with her weavin’. 
Why don’t you take otf your shoes and stock- 
in’s^ ” 

“ I don’t know,” replied Bluebell looking 
down at her low shoes and then at the lush, 
soft grass. She always had envied Tildy her 
untrammelled toes, but her father had a preju- 
dice against bare feet in all weathers. Tildy, 
that fortunate creature, could walk sidewise in 
the dusty summer road, dragging one foot and 
thus making a beautiful broad mark, with stop- 
ping posts indicated, like the picture of a fence. 
But if Bluebell attempted it she filled her 
stockings with dust and rendered her shoes a 
dismal sight. 

Tildy now came down to the brink and made 
her impression in the yielding soil. 

Look there,” said she, displaying two fine 
black slippers of glossy mud. Take yours 
otf , too, and maybe we can wade some. ’ ’ 

Bluebell found a dry stone, sat down upon 
it, and peeled her feet pink and bare. 

Come along up the run,” called Tildy. 

I’ve got my boat up here.” 

So they scampered along on each side, the 


‘^JOEDAN STORMY BANKS’’ 147 


ooze coming between Bluebell’s toes with a 
delicious rush. 

The bread-bowl beached on Tildy’s side, was 
ready for service. She had a pole to steer it 
with, and setting it afloat, ran along turning 
and guiding it as anxiously as if it were a 
bulrush basket with anothel* little baby in it. 
Bluebell ran by her side of the stream, and 
begged that the vessel might make a voyage to 
her. With a push of the pole, Tildy turned its 
prow, but it got caught against a snag, and 
she labored long to free it. Finally, the cracked 
and rather unseaworthy vessel came trium- 
phantly in, and Bluebell caught it with joy. 

The two girls felt as if they had shaken hands 
across the separating stream. Bluebell had 
some of the baby’s seed cookies in her pocket. 
She wiped the bowl very dry with bunches of 
grass, and made a nest of fresh grass in the 
centre, on which a handful of thimble cakes 
were then carefully deposited, and the gallant 
craft started on its return trip. 

It moved down stream, and both girls ac- 
companied it. Tildy poled with care lest the 
cargo might get slopped. Now, there was a 


148 


EOCKY FOEK 


rail coining down stream in the centre of the 
current, pointing like a long black finger to the 
fact that that bowl must be got out of the way, 
or there would be a collision on the high seas. 

Bluebell danced and exclaimed while Tildy 
poled in set determination. Alas for the noble 
bread-bowl ! In despair she stuck the pole into 
it, brought it with a swish to land with its grass 
and seed-cakes scattered to the stream, and 
losing her balance fell partly in herself. 

Oh, Tildy! ’’ screamed Bluebell, when 
Tildy scrambled on the bank, dripping to her 
waist. 

‘‘ This makes the second time this week I’ve 
got wet,” said she solemnly. I don’t b’lieve 
I want to wade now.” She sat down on the 
grass and wrung her clothes. Her mood was 
very sombre indeed. 

‘‘ I expect I’ll take sick and die,” she said. 

Father used to get wet to his hide before 
he took bed-fast. And I’m a good deal his 
build.” 

Just as soon as my father comes home,” 
cried Bluebell, ‘‘I’ll ask him to ride Bailie over 
the run and give you some medicine. ’ ’ 


^^JOEDAN STOEMY BANKS’’ 149 


You needn’t throw it up to me that you’ve 
got a father when I ain’t got any/’ said Tildy, 
dismally. 

<< Why, Tildy! I never! ” 

You did, too. But mehhe you ain’t got any 
either, now.” 

My father’s cornin’ home to-night! ” 

‘ ‘ Mebbe he is. ’ ’ 

‘‘He’s just gone to see his patients, and he’s 
cornin’ right straight home! ” 

“ Table Eock fell down over the Narrows 
yesterday.” 

“ I don’t care if it did! ” warded off Blue- 
bell, with quivering lip. 

“ My Uncle Abram says it could ’a’ hit your 
father just as easy as not! ” 

“ But it didn’t! ” 

“ But somethin’ may have happened to him. 
If he tries to cross the Eocky Fork now, he’s 
sure to get drownded! Uncle Abram says he 
feels uneasy. Looky there, now ! Mebbe that’s 
his hat cornin’ down the run! ” 

Bluebell suspended a great sob and watched 
the black object approaching. It reeled nearer 
and nearer — it looked so much like father 


150 


ROCKY FORK 


black hat ; she saw the hand : she saw the brim 
dip — 

‘‘ Ho! ’’ cried Doctor Garde’s little girl tri- 
umphantly, that’s just a chunk o’ burnt 
wood, Miss Tildy Banks, and my father ain’t 
any more drowned than you are ! ’ ’ 

Tildy, who felt herself more drowned than 
she wished to be, and decidedly uncomfortable 
— for there is a difference between sky- water 
and run-water — merely responded, ‘‘ Huh, 
Madam! ” 

Bluebell started back to pick up her stock- 
ings and shoes. She heard a long ringing neigh 
from the lane. 

There! ” she cried, shaking a shoe at 
Tildy, there’s my own father come home to 
my house this very minute! I’m going right 
to the bars,” she added, thrusting her tender 
feet into the shoes after wiping them on her 
stockings, and I’ll tell him all the mean 
things you said. And I won’t ask him to give 
you the medicine, so I won’t.” 

I don’t want it,” responded Tildy: “ he 
hain’t got any but nasty stuff. ” 

Doctor Garde’s little girl did not stay to 


‘‘JOEDAN STOEMY BANKS’^ 151 


argue. She scampered to the lower bars, flung 
over them, and splashed across the puddles to 
the upper bars. Bailie ^s glossy, tossing head 
appeared around the bam-corner. But her 
saddle was empty and turned to one side, the 
pill-bags dangling, her bridle hung loose, and 
as soon as she saw the little girl, she uttered 
a neighing scream. 


CHAPTER Xin 


ABRAM HAS A THEORY 

rpHE Arabian mare’s long cry reached Liza’s 
ear, also. She was putting her chickens 
in the basket, and having covered them, went 
toward the bars. 

<< There’s something wrong, the way that 
horse whinnies,” said Liza aloud. ,Why, look 
at her now! He’s been thrown! ” 

Bailie was walking from one end of the bars 
to the other, resenting the saddle and dangling 
saddle-bags, resenting the bridle which hung 
to her feet, but more than all distressed by the 
absence of her master. As soon as she saw 
Liza she uttered another interrogative wailing 
cry. 

A pair of small stockings hung across the 
fence: Bluebell’s figure was flying down the 
lane at the foot of the pine hill. 

‘‘ 0 my gracious! ” cried Liza, smiting her 
162 


ABRAM HAS A THEORY 153 


hands. Now slfie’ll go off and get killed. 
Come back, Bluebell! come back here! She 
runs right on and doesn’t hear me ! ” 

Bailie heard intelligently, and jerked her 
bridle from under foot, seeming, as she did so, 
to fling a wail after Bluebell. 

Liza got over the bars and mechanically re- 
lieved the mare, unfastening the pill-bags and 
saddle, and turning the bridle back over her 
neck. Leaving her tied to the post, Liza flung 
her apron over her head and started running 
towards Abram’s house. It was a mile to 
Abram’s. When she had passed the orchard 
and was nearly across the east meadow, she 
remembered Miss Calder had been left with 
only Rocco in the house, unconscious of what 
had happened. Still running, Liza dipped into 
a gulch-like hollow which divided the stony 
meadow in halves. It was oozy and slippery, 
and she climbed the other side nearly out of 
breath. Abram’s house appeared beyond its 
orchard. 

When Liza had scaled the orchard fence, 
and recovering breath a little, came running 
towards the front of the house, she found 


154 


EOCKY FORK 


Abram and his wife talking with a man in the 
road. 

Bounce, the house-dog, had barked all the 
way up the orchard, but they had never turned 
their heads. 

‘‘ Oh, Abram! ’’ she cried. At this Abram 
looked around, and showed a face as distressed 
as her own. 

WeVe just heard the doctor’s been 
drowned,” said Samantha solemnly. 

Liza was not prepared for this statement. 
Her burning face bleached. 

Who says so? ” she exclaimed aggres- 
sively. 

“ The g’ography-teacher and him both tried 
to cross the Rocky Fork at the ford, and his 
horse acted up some way and got him off.” 

Liza groaned. 

‘‘ I don’t believe it,” she said next: ‘‘ why 
didn’t you help him? ” 

The geography-teacher was splashed and 
muddied from head to foot. His face looked 
haggard, and on Pancost’s tall gray horse he 
appeared singularly gruesome. Liza despised 
him at first sight. She longed to pull him from 


ABRAM HAS A THEORY 


155 


his uncertain seat, and have him punished for 
this trouble for which she unreasonably held 
him accountable. 

‘‘ I couldn’t help him, ma’am. I just escaped 
with my own life, and rode as hard as I could 
to the first house I saw, to give the alarm. ’ ’ 
There’s four houses between this and the 
ford ! His horse just came to the bars ! Abram ! 
Why don’t you stir yourself? Go and help 
him! He isn’t drowned, I know. Why, he can 
swim like a fish! If you’d only stopped to be 
of some account! ” she cried, flashing her ex- 
cited eyes up and down the geography-teacher. 

‘‘ Liza,” said Abram, ‘‘I’m startin’ to the 
stable for a horse. But you hain’t heard the 
particulars. ’ ’ 

He cantered away, and Samantha, who had 
gone into the house, came out with a camphor- 
bottle. She bathed Liza’s face, while that good 
spinster held to the fence and denounced Mr. 
Runnels. 

“ Where’s your particulars, now? If you’d 
stood by him like a man, as he ’a’ stood by you ! 
Where is he? What did he do after he got into 
the water? ” 


156 


EOCKY FOEK 


You don’t know what you’re talking about, 
ma’am,” said Mr. Eunnels, avoiding her eyes, 
and speaking in a dejected way without heat. 

His horse got to plunging and the sad- 
dle slipped. The current was so strong we 
were both carried away below the ford, and 
when I got out, his horse had kicked him 
loose.” 

Bailie kick him! She never kicked him! ” 

I can’t help that. She was climbing the 
bank and a heavy log hit him and he went 
under. I called for help, but nobody came. 
Then I put my horse to a gallop and rode as 
hard as I could to the first house I saw.” 

Sit down, Liza,” begged Samantha, push- 
ing her upon a stool they used in picking fruit. 
Liza sat down. There goes Abram to the 
ford fast as he can go. And if he don’t find 
anything he’ll warn out all the neighbors. 
Don’t take on so! ” sobbed Samantha in her 
own apron. 

Mr. Eunnels turned his horse and followed 
Abram. Dripping and wretched and in need 
of hospitality as he certainly was, it had not 
occurred to either of the women to offer him 


ABEAM HAS A THEOEY 


157 


anything. He faded from their view merely as 
the bearer of bad tidings. 

Bnt a capable woman like Liza could give up 
to smelling camphor for a moment only. Within 
half an hour she had created a revolution in 
her own house. The sitting-room was turned 
into a hospital ward, with every appliance for 
restoring wounded or half-drowned people. A 
fire made the black chimney-piece sparkle. 
Miss Melissa followed her around, awed and 
colorless, but anxious to help. She did marvels 
of lifting and carrying, scarcely knowing it. 
A chill struck through the air as the day closed. 
Only the baby, who sat in the big rocker with 
Georgiana and the soles of her own feet broad- 
side to the fire, could sing with any enjoyment 
of life. The unusual bustle and the climbing 
fire seemed things of good cheer. Unconscious 
of any trouble and feeling in a musical mood, 
Eocco improvised recitative, crescendo and 
diminuendo, knitting her fine eyebrows with an 
artist’s concentration. 

“0 — my — GOOD — GWacious! Jawge- 
anno! — I neva’ turn back any mo’. An’ it 
WAINED : AND Juicy-crucy-fied ’im. Cap in 


158 


EOCKY FOEK 


my father’s HAN’! An’ the’ was a little gnyl 
had a nice dolly b’ronged to her sisser B’ue- 
bell. 0 Jawge-ANNO! ” 

Liza-Eobert came tiptoeing in on her heavy 
shoe-soles. She had got the news some way, 
and going nearly a mile up the run, found a 
narrow place where she could get across by the 
aid of rails and so reach the troubled house. 
She had been crying on the way, and when she 
saw Eocco toasting her soles with such musical 
satisfaction, the poor woman buried her face 
in her apron. 

Poor little innocent!” she said, passing 
her hand down Eocco ’s head; ‘‘ poor little 
innocent! ” 

Eocco was accustomed to Liza-Eobert ’s 
widowed expression, and laughed up in her 
face. 

Dreat big doll,” she said importantly, 
turning Georgiana for inspection. 

Then, as if a peg had slipped in the music- 
box of her little chest, she straightway struck 
otf again : 

On Missus — JOED AN STOEMY Banks’s 
house, I cast a Eishful EYE ! ” 


ABRAM HAS A THEORY 


159 


Miss Melissa came in from the banistered 
porch where she had been watching, and Liza 
from the kitchen. 

‘‘ Did you see or hear anything? ” inquired 
Liza. Her plump, well-preserved face looked 
shrunken. 

Nothing,” replied Miss Melissa, spreading 
her transparent, trembling hands to the fire. 

Vll make you acquainted with my cousin’s 
widow, Miss Calder, ’ ’ said Liza. 

Miss Calder bowed to the raw-boned, sad 
woman. Liza-Robert inclined her head. 

‘‘ How do ye do, ma’am? ” Then she wiped 
otf a rolling tear with her apron. There was a 
natural majesty in her which fully appreciated 
culture and delicacy in another; but now she 
met this lady without a thought of the differ- 
ence between them. 

‘ ‘ He stayed by me night and day when I had 
the lung fever, and the other doctors give me 
up to die. If it hadn’t been for him I wonder 
who’d be carin’ for my children now ! I’m just 
a hard-workin’ woman that’s had trouble, but 
he always was as good as an angel to me and 
mine.’’ 


160 


ROCKY FORK 


Liza went to the door ; then to the bars. The 
day was gone: she was startled to find it so 
near twilight. 

Presently she came back with an heroic air, 
patted the prepared bed and laid it open, 
turned a stick on the fire-dogs over, and hur- 
riedly brought in a candle. 

I thought I heard some one cominV’ she 
said. 

It seemed to be the tramping of another 
horse at the bars. Bailie, still tied to the 
ignominious post, neighed to it interroga- 
tively. 

Abram came striding in. 

^ ^ Where is he ? ’ ’ said Liza. 

Abram looked at the three women pite- 
ously. 

I don’t know. We ain’t found him.” 

Who’s lookin’! ” cried Liza with a sharp 
tone. 

All on this side the Fork. The men goin’ 
home from the Furnace all turned in. ’ ’ 

I thought mebby ’twas only that curly- 
headed g’ography-teacher,” said Liza. She 
burst out sobbing in her apron again. Miss 


ABEAM HAS A THEOEY 


161 


Calder sat down. Eocco was frightened, and 
got down with Georgiana hanging across her 
shonlder, to stare at Abram. 

‘‘We did get his hat,’’ said Abram, swallow- 
ing as if his very prominent Adam’s apple were 
choking him. ‘ ‘ And I have a kind of a theory 
now.” 

He proceeded, without much encouragement, 
to explain his theory : 

“ Mr. Eunnels says a log hit him and he 
went down right by the ford. They’re gettin’ 
Eidenour’s canoe and ’ll drag over that spot. 
But I hev a kind of theory — I don’t know 
whether I’m right or not — ” 

The three women lifted their heads expect- 
antly. 

“ My theory is, it didn’t stop there.” 

The pronoun sent a shudder through his 
hearers. 

“ It’s down below the Narrows, and I’m 
goin’ to Mary Ann and warn out the men for 
a search there.” 

At this hopeless view of the case, Liza 
walked the floor in a transport of grief, and 
Liza-Eobert tried to repress her own sorrow 


162 


EOCKY FOEK 


and attend to Miss Calder, who seemed faint- 
ing. 

‘‘ Oh, the poor boy! And him so noble- 
hearted! Night after night, day after day, 
through rain and shine and cold and heat he’s 
rode! And it made no difference whether it 
was to the rich or the poor! They was all 
alike to him if they needed doctrin’ — and he 
never expected to get pay for half he done! ” 

Here Eocco raised her voice and howled. 

‘‘ He was good to me,” said Abram. ‘‘ I 
never knowed a man I thought more of.” 

‘‘ Honey,” said Liza, coming to the baby, 
and trying to control herself, ‘‘ Liza ’ll put you 
to bed now. ’ ’ 

I don’t want to go,” howled Eocco. I 
want B’uebell to sit in the chair and wock me.” 

Liza flashed a glance all around the room. 
Then a recollection ran over her face leaving 
it more faded. 

Oh, didn’t that child come back? She ran 
down the lane to hunt him. Abram, where’s 
Bluebell? ” 


CHAPTER XIV 

BLUEBELL HAS NO THEOBY 

T^HEN Doctor Gardens little girl started 
* * down the unfenced lane, she acted on an 
impulse given by terror. She ran with all her 
might at the side of the lane, tangling her feet 
in fragrant pennyroyal, and bounding over 
bunches of ground-cherries, so that it seemed 
a whole year before she reached the place 
where it joined its mud to that of the main 
road. This was a steep, stumpy place : young 
saplings had been ridden down, and bent their 
bruised backs to draggle torn tops on the 
ground. On the black hill above, all those 
pines were whistling softly between their teeth, 
as father did. Hundreds of odd thoughts 
rushed pell-mell through the little girPs 
mind. 

Bailie’s track here melted into others; but 
163 


164 


EOCKY FOEK 


as Bluebell had not thought of tracing Bailie 
course, she did not pause on account of losing 
the clew. She stood still an instant and looked 
back toward the house. She was so little. 
Grown-up folks would know better what to do. 
The house was almost out of sight among trees. 
She had no distinct idea except that father was 
certainly in danger somewhere and must be 
found. The primrose light was fading out in 
the west. If she went on and nobody knew 
where she was, she might slip over the Nar- 
rows and be killed, and against this her sound 
flesh and wholesome blood rebelled utterly. 
Still, her pause was only an instant long: she 
laced up the leather strings of her shoes and 
tied them firmly, waded around mud-holes, and 
ran on toward the entrance of the Narrows. 

Just here the Eocky Fork burst upon her 
sight. Bluebell held to the flint wall feeling 
giddy. She had never seen such an expanse 
of water. It covered nearly the whole of a 
wide meadow, and on the side next the Narrows 
licked at the earthen cliff, crumbling it by slow 
handfuls. She felt it was climbing step by 
step to grab her as she started on. 


BLUEBELL HAS NO THEOEY 165 


There was a current like a mill-race over the 
hidden bed of the Eocky Fork. Logs, brush, 
rails, whole trees, skated along on it. The 
child could not keep her fascinated gaze off this 
current, and it made her so dizzy she was 
obliged every few moments to stop, reeling 
against the hill-wall and hugging its stones 
with her hands. She was going in the direc- 
tion of the current. Just as Bluebell entered 
on this narrow track she heard violent gallop- 
ing begin of a sudden behind her. She thought 
of Billy Bowl, and seizing a root above her 
head, made herself as flat as possible against 
the wall. She thought also of the loose horse 
which met father and her upon the Narrows, 
and turned desperately to frighten it back. 
But this horse was a lean gray one and had 
a rider, and both were dripping from head to 
foot; the rider looked wildly toward the Nar- 
rows and wheeled his horse away from them. 
Then he flew away as fast as the animal could 
gallop on a sled road, arching by through the 
pine woods which led to the road past Abram ^s, 
but was seldom used except by wood-cutters. 
He had not noticed Bluebell. 


166 


EOCKY FOEK 


‘‘ It^s the g’ography teacher/’ said she hur- 
rying on. ‘‘ And he's fell in the water and 
wet all his nice clothes, and he looked just like 
Billy Bowl! " 

Nothing else happened in her dizzy, long 
journey around the Narrows. Midway she 
could not look at the waters, but their sound 
filled all the country silence. Bluebell’s road 
remained in light after the shadows settled on 
them. A huge hole was left over the gutter 
where Table Eock had hung: the earth was 
broken all around. Bluebell got by it as well 
as she could. When she reached the Furnace 
the day-workmen were about to start to their 
homes. 

All the way around, though Doctor Garde’s 
little girl had been showing as much Irish pluck 
as she could muster, her chin had shaken with 
sobs and her heart felt bursting with a mighty 
homesickness for father. She looked into the 
Furnace now, unreasonably expecting to see 
him on a bunch of coats or wamuses, tended as 
they had tended Eli Eidenour. 

She saw glittering eyes and smutted faces, 
and heard a line of song roared out. 


BLUEBELL HAS NO THEORY 


167 


‘‘Where’s my father?” she cried to the 
nearest Fnrnace-man. 

Several came to her at once. 

“ It’s Doc. Garde’s little girl.” 

“ What’s the matter, sissy! ” 

“ Is my father here! ” 

“ No. He hasn’t been past the Furnace 
since night before last. What’s the mat- 
ter! ” 

“He’s got hurt someway,” wailed Bluebell, 
the tears dropping to her breast. “ The horse 
came home with her saddle all turned, and I 
can’t find him.” 

The Furnace-men looked at each other, and 
the alarm fiashed around. 

“ Which way was he ridin’! ” 

“ I don’t know. I thought maybe he fell 
over like Eli Ridenour and you’d brought him 
here. Oh, if you don’t find my father, I can’t 
stand it at all ! ” 

“ He must have been trying to ford the 
Fork,” exclaimed the biggest of all the Fur- 
nace-men. “ We’ll go down there.” 

They swarmed around each other in what 
appeared a scarlet confusion of unbelted warn- 


168 


EOCKY FORK 


uses, then trooped in a hnrry to the Narrows. 
They forgot the child. She stood crying beside 
a brick pillar, too overwhelmed with trouble to 
think of anything but its pain. Where 'mas 
father? And was he badly hurt? 


CHAPTER XV; 


THE FOED 

TN an hour the hanks about the place where 
the country road forded the Rocky Fork in 
low water, were studded with what seemed 
from a distance large, unblinking fire-flies. 
And on the stream itself two or three other 
fire-flies in a cluster moved hack and forth, 
here and there. Bad news need not he tele- 
graphed in the country. It flies faster than 
the wind. The whole neighborhood on each 
side the Rocky Fork knew that Doctor Garde 
had been carried down in the Rocky Fork, and 
men of all ages turned out in the search. 

The Furnace-men brought dried pine sticks 
for torches. Three people paddled Ridenour’s 
canoe about, trailing light on the muddy water. 
The trees took on a weird appearance as these 
torches lit up the inner mystery of their 
branches, and some sleepy birds that had just 
comfortably settled for the night, chirped in- 
169 


170 


EOCKY FORK 


quiringly. Overhead the stars appeared by 
ones and groups through a clear sky, from 
which the trailing mists were blown away. 

The men in the canoe had a log-chain and 
hook which they trailed along the bottom. 
Others followed the banks down stream, being 
obliged to go around deep bogs and back-waters 
which nearly covered what had been grape- 
vine thickets. Doctor Garde’s felt hat had been 
found in a thicket by one of the boys, and 
Abram had ridden otf home with it : but when 
he got there he had not had the heart to 
carry the soaked and dreadful token in, but 
had laid it in a corner of the porch while 
he entered to tell about it and state his con- 
victions. 

Mr. Runnels remained by the ford, walking 
his borrowed steed here and there, and stretch- 
ing fearfully toward every object which at- 
tracted notice. 

They say Pancost come nigh losin’ his old 
gray,” said Mr. Willey grimly, laying his hand 
on the neck of this steed. 

I barely got out,” replied Mr. Runnels. 

It seemed as if we were both to go.” 


THE FORD 


171 


Wliat possessed ye to try the Rocky Fork 
when iFs so high? ’’ 

I wanted to carry around word to all my 
pupils on this side that the lessons would be 
stopped till the water went down. I was about 
to turn back, but Doctor Oarde was just ven- 
turing in, and I thought a man might follow 
where he went. ’ ’ 

Oh, but Doctor Garde wouldnT turn back 
from anything ! And he had the prettiest piece 
o’ horse-flesh in the whole country. She could 
swim like a duck, and take a straight up-and- 
down bank, and in the darkest night he could 
give her the bridle and go to sleep. The trouble 
with Doctor Garde, sir, was that he didn’t know 
danger when he saw it. This is a rough piece 
o’ country, but he’d cut right across the hills, 
and once he got his eyelid cut open riding 
against a branch, and it hung down to his cheek. 
But he goes home and sews it up himself, and 
keeps on ridin’ as if nothing had happened. 
Ain ’t many men could stand what he could. ’ ’ 

I should think not.” 

No, sir. I couldn’t. And he was the best 
doctor, sir, I ever had in my family. There’s 


172 


EOCKY FOEK 


Hall over yonder. His mill went with these 
high waters, but I believe he feels a sight worse 
about the doctor.’’ 

The men with the grapple-chain hooked 
something. It was no easy matter to keep out 
of the current and the course of limbs and vari- 
ous flotsam from wood-cutters’ piles. They 
got into a still place scummed over with pow- 
dered rotten-wood, and here they carefully 
drew in the laden hook. 

Men on the opposite bank called to each other 
and came running to the verge, while those by 
the scummy bay knotted together and held their 
lights down. 

Have you got anything? ” they called. 

Those around the hook fell back and looked 
up: 

“No, nothing but a little stump.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


A TRIO AND CHORUS 

rpHE homesickness for father grew to agony 
in Doctor Garde’s little girl. She stood 
just outside the Furnace pressing her hands 
together. 

,When she was a smaller girl she dreamed 
once that father was dead. It was a smother- 
ing dream. Her heart weighed her down so she 
thought she could never skip or play blackman 
again. Driven by unendurable loneliness which 
nothing but the presence of father could cure, 
she persistently hunted him till she came to an 
enormous mansion which was heaven. Here 
she asked for him, and was told that he had 
just passed into another apartment, which she 
entered just in time to see the last fold of his 
garment disappearing through an opposite 
door. So from one vast room to another she 
still followed, calling him as she ran; but he 
never heard, and she never touched even the 
173 


174 


EOCKY FOEK 


hem of his robe. The place grander than any 
town, was full of carvings, pictures and name- 
less elegances, such as Bluebell could not re- 
member ever having seen before. Then she 
was in a forest where a wind-storm had passed. 
Fallen trees made a limitless bridge from her 
feet into the horizon, and there was the most 
brilliant moonlight over the whole visible 
world. She was crying to herself, hopeless of 
ever seeing father again, when he came walking 
over that endless corduroy bridge toward her. 
He came walking in a long white robe which 
covered him with light and trailed on the logs, 
his square serious face full of concern about 
her. He did not seem pleased to find her crying 
there, though he picked her up and soothed her I 
Then he told her she must be kind to the baby 
and be a good girl ; and without her being able 
to detain him, he turned and trailed again out 
of sight across the moonlit logs. 

This dream had made such a painful impres- 
sion on Bluebell that she never had forgotten 
it. It always came across her mind at serious 
times. It seemed to belong to the same class 
of untold terrors as her superstition about 


A TEIO AND CHOEUS 


175 


Billy Bowl. But now it came up before her 
like reality. Or perhaps the reality which the 
child was facing stood before her like that 
dream. 

The Fork^s roar came up through humid 
dusk which was thickening every minute to 
darkness. Some whippoorwills in the trees 
below the road were uttering their cry almost 
under her feet, so that she heard the guttural 
which preceded it : 

— whippoorwill, 

G’ — whippoorwill ! ” 

But presently out of the intermingled sounds 
of whippoorwills, water and frogs, there came 
something else very ditferent. 

It was not at first distinct; but when Blue- 
bell listened intently, she did hear a voice call- 
ing: 

Hillo! ’’ 

The little girl ran along the road toward 
Mary Ann until she came to where the Narrows 
broadened to a hilly shoulder which sloped 
gradually to the Fork. Bluebell knew nothing 
about the descent. Within this hill and along 
under the Furnace, John Tegarden’s coal-fires 


176 


EOCKT FOEK 


were supposed to be perpetually burning. But 
her eyes were accustomed to the dark, and there 
was a fine starlight overhead. 

It did seem dreadful to come down to the 
very edge of the Eocky Fork. Flecks of foam 
showed on it like threatening teeth. Black ob- 
jects were continually passing down, out in the 
current. Sometimes these fish etched their fins 
on the low sky on the other side, when you saw 
that there were twigs and limbs of a fioating 
tree. 

When Bluebell had climbed down almost to 
a level with the Eocky Fork, she held on to a 
bush, and listened. 

‘ ‘ Hillo ! ’ ’ called the voice again. 

It was farther from her, and must be just 
under the Narrows opposite the Furnace. 

“ Father! Is father there? ’’ 

‘‘ Hillo ! somebody come and help me ! ’’ 

‘‘ Oh, father, are you drownin’! Oh, what 
shall I do? ” 

“ Is that you, Bluebell? Who’s with you? ” 
“ Nobody, father, but just myself! I can’t 
get to you, father — the water’s so deep! ” 

“ Don’t think of trying to come to me! ” 


A TEIO AND CHORUS 


177 


There was a pause. The Rocky Fork, the 
frogs, and the whippoorwills uttered their 
voices. Bluebell thought she heard a groan 
contributed to the chorus. 

Oh, father! are you drownin^? CanT you 
get out somehow! 

A horse’s feet made heavy thuds overhead: 
they sounded so loud she was not sure he heard 
her. 

Father! what must I do! ” 

“ Bring somebody here.” 

But you’ll drown while I’m gone! ” cried 
Bluebell, adding a blubbering sob by way of 
period. 

No, I sha’n’t.” 

His little girl’s nerves were not equal to 
facing the bare possibility, and she sent up a 
wail. 

Don’t make a fuss,” came father’s voice, 
somewhat sternly. 

‘‘ Who’s that down there! ” called a voice 
from the road overhead; Bluebell! ” 

Sir! ” She held to her bush and looked 
up: there was a blurred man on horseback 
against the deeper background of hill. 


178 


EOCKY FOEK 


‘ ‘ Is that Bluebell Garde ? ^ ’ 

Yes, sir. My father’s here in the Eocky 
Fork, and I don’t know how to get him 
out I ” 

The man made his horse’s feet clatter, and 
he could be heard immediately afterwards, 
making his way down the bank himself. 

Who’s that? ” called the doctor from his 
invisible position. 

It’s me, Abram Banks. I don’t seem to 
make you out, doctor.” 

‘‘I’m here in the shadow on a log.” 

The Eocky Fork and the frogs and whippoor- 
wills came in with a full chorus while Abram 
paused and caught his breath. 

“ Can you hold on a bit longer? ” 

“ I think so. The water’s quiet. But my 
arm’s broken, and I can’t help myself, and it 
may turn me faint pretty soon, again. I’ve 
nearly fainted several times.” 

“ If you could hold on till I gallop back and 
get Eidenour’s canoe.” 

Bluebell sobbed in her dress-skirt. 

“ Can’t you get a rope up at the Furnace, 
Abram? If I had one end of a long rope I 


A TEIO AND CHORUS 


179 


could fasten it to the log, and then you could 
tow me to where you are.’’ 

‘‘ Is it a big tree? 

No, rather small. I managed to get it out 
of the current — broke otf some branches and 
paddled.” 

“ Bluebell,” said Abram, deliberately pull- 
ing olf his wamus and boots, you go up the 
bank and see what my horse ’s doin’. I tied 
him in such a hurry he may get loose, and then 
we’d be in a box for a way to git your father 
home.” 

The little girl scrambled up, holding to the 
grass in places, and before she reached the top, 
she heard a plunge which told Abram had 
taken to the water. 

Abram’s horse was tied to a sapling across 
the road, and was stretching his neck to 
browse. 

The breathing of the Fork and the frogs was 
interrupted by splashings and half-exclama- 
tions. Bluebell was reassured by hearing her 
father’s voice more plainly. The log was being 
pushed cautiously out of its harbor. He di- 
rected Abram not to turn it towards the 


180 


EOCKY FORK 


current, but to steer it against another log. 
Abram’s replies were interspersed with grunts. 

It was not a very long time before they strug- 
gled up the hill, Abram helping the doctor. 
His own hair was sending little streams of 
water down his wamus, but Doctor Garde was 
dripping from head to foot. When the light 
from the Furnace fell on him, he showed in a 
ghastly plight. 

Have you got a knife, Abram? ” asked the 
doctor. 

Abram groped in his homespun and brought 
out what he called a jack-knife. 

Now, cut my sleeves open, will you? ” 

This was done. The doctor took his coats 
oft. 

That rubber sleeve compressed it, or 
seemed to. It’s considerably swollen.” He 
examined his right arm. Bluebell could see 
him closing his lips. 

‘‘ Just git on the horse now and I’ll put sissy 
up behind you. Or can’t you manage it? ” 

The doctor took the horse’s bridle in his left 
hand, and placing one foot in the stirrup, 
leaped up as he did on his Arabian. But this 


A TRIO AND CHORUS 


181 


time he sank back and leaned on the plough- 
horse’s neck. 

Afraid I can’t do it, Abram. A few ribs 
a little out of normal condition, too.” 

‘‘ Can’t you step on that rock, father! ” said 
Bluebell, caressing his sound elbow. In her 
comfort at having him again, she would have 
been his stepping-stone herself. 

The faintness passing away, he followed 
Abram and the horse to a rock and succeeded 
in mounting from that. The farmer flung up 
Bluebell behind him, and took the bridle. This 
small cavalcade started at once. 

It’d be safer to go the long way around 
the hill,” suggested Abram. They’re a- 
huntin’ you b’low at the ford, and we might 
meet ’em with lights or somethin’, and this 
horse might cut up. She’s always simple along 
the Narrows.” 

The nearest way will be the safest to-night. 
I want to get home, Abram. ’ ’ 

So they passed the Furnace in a quick walk 
and entered the Narrows. The night-workmen 
were busy inside, and probably speculating 
about the recovery of Doctor Garde’s body. 


182 


EOCKY FOEK 


^ ‘ Father, ’ ’ cried Bluebell, hugging him care- 
fully below his arms, ‘‘ Bailie came home with 
the saddle all turned over ! ’ ’ 

She laid her cheek against his dear wet back, 
ashamed to make louder demonstrations of joy. 
Now that he was out of the water, the whole 
disaster seemed a mere extension of that pain- 
ful dream. 

And you started out to find where she left 
me, did you? said father in a bantering tone 
which indicated that he was touched. 

‘‘Yes, sir, and I thought you fell over the 
Narrows.’^ 

“ Did you say they were searching at the 
ford? ” 

“ Got out Eidenour’s canoe and draggin’ 
with a log chain.” 

“Who?” 

“ The whole neighborhood, nigh about. That 
g’ography-man he first brought word to me, 
and the Furnace-hands heard, and they come. 
But it wasn’t my theory that it — that you’d 
stop there. I felt pretty clear you’d went with 
the current. Liza, she come runnin’ to tell me 
some mischance had happened to you. The 


A TRIO AND CHORUS 


183 


g’ograpliy-teaclier, he looked scared out a 
yearns growth/’ said Abram, having recourse 
to the time-honored humor of his region. 

“ He was badly scared.” The young doc- 
tor’s face shone with a phosphorescent smile. 

If I had left him to his fate he couldn’t have 
stood it, perhaps, as well as I can. It was 
folly in him to try the Fork, any way. But he 
plunged in because I did, and I felt bound to 
help him over.” 

‘‘ He told us,” remarked Abram slowly, 
‘‘ that you was kind of took off by the current 
and your horse kicked you, and you sunk.” 

The doctor laughed. 

‘‘ Well, he certainly was scared out of his 
sense. Why, I had crossed the current, diag- 
onally, as the mare always takes a swift cur- 
rent, and was just at the opposite bank, when 
he yelled to me. He had come in holding his 
horse ’s head down, and it was about to drown ; 
they spun around in the current and started 
down stream. When I got to him I seized his 
bridle and tried to lead him out, and then the 
horse began to struggle, and the first thing I 
knew I was dropped o:ff and thrashed around, 


184 


EOCKY FOEK 


and his gray gave me a few kicks which might 
have been fatal out of the water, and I saw 
Bailie spinning along the road with her gear- 
ing half off, and the young man getting safely 
out on his horse. I tried to swim, but my best 
arm was so numb I couldn’t use it, so I just 
kept out of the way of drift as well as I could, 
and finally found a log I could crawl upon. I 
think he called me once or twice, but I found 
it necessary to fix my whole mind on what I 
was doing. When I got on my log and as far 
as the Narrows, it took hard work to get out 
of the current. Can’t we move on a little 
faster, Abram! ” 

The horse’s pace was quickened. Bluebell 
had not listened for the crumbling of earth 
below, nor did she much mind the gutter under 
Table Eock hole. Her soul was given up to 
indignation. 

He didn’t act the man, appearently,” pro- 
nounced Abram, having turned all the incidents 
over. 

I’ll never go to his g’ography school 
again! ” cried Bluebell from a bursting heart. 

Tut! ” said father, little girls should be 



^‘1 SEIZED HIS BRIDLE AND TRIED TO LEAD HIM OUT.'’ — Page 183, 










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185 


seen and not heard. Abram, wonld yon mind 
trotting? I think I conld stand it.’’ 

They trotted. 

Bluebell’s face intensified behind the wet 
back. Her imagination rehearsed a scene. She 
put Mr. Runnels before the geography school, 
and especially before Mr. Pitzer’s spectacles, 
and pointing to him said, “ He is just as had 
as Billy Bowl, for he let my father get pushed 
into the Rocky Fork after my father had helped 
to pull him out f Old Billy Bowl I Old Billy 
Bowl! ” 


CHAPTER XVII 


DOCTOR GARDE LISTENS TO REASON 

rpHE run had gone down, and the Rocky Fork 
was within its banks and falling every 
hour. Hall, with a number of his neighbors, 
was raising another mill on the site of the old 
one, and Mr. Pitzer’s boys went down at recess 
and noon to watch the process and get in the 
way. 

Wreaths of drift on the play-ground showed 
where the water had been, and the lower logs 
of the school-house had threads of green 
springing in their cracks and knot-holes. 

Everybody had heard how Doctor Garde got 
into and out of the Rocky Fork, and the geog- 
raphy-master met some rough bantering which 
he answered as best he could. The young men 
in his night school talked in knots in the grave- 
yard about tar and feathers for him; but tar 
and feathers were a favorite subject with them, 
principally because they had never seen any 
186 


LISTENS TO SEASON 


187 


and had some curiosity about the effect of such 
a combination. Mr. Eunnels did his best to 
remove the prejudice against him, and he was 
so amusing, they forgave him, especially as 
Doctor Garde had nothing more to say about 
the matter. 

Doctor Garde was badly hurt; and one of 
the other country doctors who set his bones 
made sad work with the swollen arm. The 
whole neighborhood on the safe side of the 
Fork got upon their plough-horses and came 
to see him, according to custom. Healthy as 
his physique was, so many strains and annoy- 
ances brought on fever, and Liza-Eobert hov- 
ered mournfully around the kitchen, taking 
Liza’s place, while Liza nursed him past the 
worst days. Miss Calder took charge of the 
children, though one of the doctor’s fancies 
was to have them both placed on the foot of 
his bed where he could see them while they 
sang to him. With one hand propping up his 
head, he watched them through half-smiling 
eyes. 

Bailie neighed long and frequently in her 
stable. Bluebell fed her standing on the barn- 


188 


EOCKY FORK 


floor, and smoothed her velvet nose, telling her 
minutely all that had happened, and whether 
father was better or worse. Still, Bailie felt 
lonesome; and as there was no stable boy to 
groom her down, Liza at last turned her into 
the meadow, where she sailed like a lark. 

On Saturday afternoon Tildy Banks, bare- 
footed, slipped into the kitchen. 

The doctor was very much better. She edged 
to the room where he lay, and looked in. It was 
warm, dazzling weather, and all the doors stood 
open. 

Father was having his dinner. Bluebell and 
Rocco camped beside him, occasionally getting 
a bit, and finding the invalid fare a great deal 
nicer than their own unlimited dinner. 

There ^s Tildy! ’’ said Bluebell; ‘‘ come in 
Tildy: Rocco ’s telling father a story. And 
take a chair.’’ 

I don’t want to,” responded Tildy, briefly. 

The doctor turned his head and asked her 
how Jacob the soap-boiler was. Tildy ’s eyes 
snapped; for Jacob the soap-boiler was an 
imaginary person whom the doctor placed be- 
fore Tildy ’s mind as a possible future tyrant. 


LISTENS TO EEASON 


189 


He found the children one day playing a very 
stately play, with much curtsying and singing: 

" Here come three lords just out of Spain 
A-courting of your daughter Jane.” 

My daughter J ane she is too young 
To listen to the wiles of a flattering tongue.” 

Tildy was especially serious in the perform- 
ance ; and he at once put in a plea for another 
and absent lord, by title, Jacob the soap-boiler 
who desired his loyal duty to Matilda instead 
of to Jane. 

He’s about as well as usual,” she returned 
with a stoical countenance, but her nails felt 
quite long. 

The’ ain’t any soap-boiler,” now pleaded 
Bluebell, making coaxing faces to her father. 

And then what happened next, Poppetty? ” 

The baby leaned her head towards one 
shoulder and then the other in a bashful pause. 

I guess there isn’t any more of it,” sug- 
gested Bluebell. 

Yes, the’ is, too! ’Nen, — ’nen — ’nen 
they eat haws and forn-berries and winter- 
dreens, and ’ey didn’t have good honey and 
bwed and chickun — ’tause the’ wasn’t any. 


190 


EOCKY FOEK 


An^ the boy say to his sisser, ‘ Don^t try: I 
git a gun I shoot ! ’ And birds put leaveses all 
over ’em. ’Nen they laid down on drown’; an’ 
the ole bad mans go off and fight wizsor-ruds 
an’ ’ey git killed. An’ the’ wasn’t any church- 
house or anyfing. Thus’ trees all ’roun’. An’ 
the babies didn’t have any krunnel-bed, nor 
any nice drurio wiz drors to keep the’ Sunday 
clo’es in. An’ the birds put leaveses all over 
’em. An’ they rished they was to their house. 
An’ they bofe died. ’Nen they touldn’t go 
any furver ’tause they was so tired! They 
thus’ laid them down and di-de! 

Eocco folded her claws and fixed her black 
eyes impressively on father’s face. 

An’ birds put leaveses all over ’em,” she 
repeated. 

Yes,” said father, ‘‘ that’s a very mourn- 
ful tale. Now, if you’ll kiss me very carefully 
you may both get down and run out to play. 
I ought to get a nap.” 

They both kissed him very carefully and 
went out with Tildy. 

Tildy dug her toes into the soil, and made the 
following remark : — 


LISTENS TO REASON 


191 


‘ ‘ Come, and go to ’r house. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Well, if Liza 11 let us.^^ 

She told mother you could come to-day. 
Mother sent me over to fetch you. They don’t 
want you ’round while your father’s so sick.” 

He ain’t so sick! He’s ’most well.” 

Tildy looked fixedly at her toes : 

He looks awful bad.” 

Well, I guess you would, too, if your ribs 
and your arm was broke ! That day we played 
down by the run you said he was going to get 
drowned, but he didn’t! ” 

He come nigh it,” observed Tildy, with 
satisfaction. 

W'^ell, he didn’t get clear drowned, nor he 
ain’t goin’ to, for all o’ you! ” retorted Blue- 
bell with stinging asperity. 

Tildy dug her toes into the soil, ploughing 
quite a furrow. 

‘ ‘ My father ’s got a pretty verse on his tomb- 
stone, ’ ’ she said, suggestively. ^ ^ It says : 

^ Eemember, friends, as you pass by. 

As you are now, so once was I : 

As I am now, so you must be — 

. Prepare for death and follow me.’ ” 


192 


EOCKY FORK 


That’s on ’most all of ’em in the grave- 
yard! ” 

‘‘ And it’s what they’d put on your fa- 
ther’s.” 

‘‘ Tildy Banks, I don’t like ye! ” 

The’ ain’t no love lost betwixt us,” ob- 
served Tildy ; and she turned toward home. 

Bluebell felt bruised and astounded. Rocco 
stood by, gazing up through the tunnel of her 
sun-bonnet. 

You’ll feel sorry when I’m gone off to live 
somewheres else! ” 

Tildy pursued her way deafly, straight as an 
Indian. 

Tildy! ” 

The distance widened. 

Tildy, what did you go and get mad for? 
Are you leavin’ us? I don’t think that’s a nice 
way to mind your mother ! ’ ’ 

Tildy paused near the bars, and turned, 
but without any intention of stooping to par- 
ley. 

Melissy Garde, if you’re goin’ to ’r house 
you better come on. ’ ’ 

Roxana’s sister came on, hurrying her by the 


LISTENS TO REASON 


193 


hand. It was such a grief to be at variance 
with anybody, and especially with Tildy, who 
must indeed love her, they had played together 
so long. 

Tildy helped the baby over the bars, and they 
all proceeded down the meadow in silence. Bai- 
lie was scouring across the flank of the hill, 
making the woods echo with her whinneys. 
Whatever was green looked densely so, and the 
shade was black against the light. The more 
distant landscape seemed to vibrate in the heat. 
Grasshoppers fled from their approach in every 
direction, and down the run Pidey and Rose 
stood up to their knees in a deep place, chewing 
their cuds and switching their tails. On such 
a summer day Nature is a tender mother : the 
outdoor world is better than the best fairy- 
books. 

You ought to see my doll Aunt Melissa 
brought me,^’ began Bluebell in a conciliatory 
tone. Her face kind of melted.’’ At this 
moment Bluebell felt she could bear that sad 
change in Georgiana if it would only mollify 
Tildy. 

She’s wax, you know, and Rocco held her 


194 


EOCKY FORK 


too near the fire, and one cheek run, like she 
cried the red off. ’ ^ 

She did try! ’’ exclaimed Rocco, in dis- 
tress. 

Liza tried and I tried and Jawgeanus tried 
— I didn^t hurt her. Bluebell! ’’ 

No, honey, you didn’t. Aunt Melissa says 
she thinks she can paint it over.” 

Tildy stalked ahead, helping to lead the 
baby. 

‘‘ Did you go to school yesterday, Tildy? ” 

“ I gener’ly go to school! ” 

Did you get the head-mark? ” 

Your dear Printh’ Pancost got that.” 

Doctor Garde’s little girl looked piteously at 
the uncompromising sun-bonnet. 

I wish you’d got it, Tildy.” 

1 don’t care about head-marks.” 

‘‘ But I’d rather you’d have the prize than 
anybody else if I go ’way. We’ve always been 
cronies, you know. ’ ’ 

Tildy ’s sun-bonnet turned its mouth toward 
her, and the scrutinizing gray eyes focused 
themselves on their affectionate minion. 

If you’d been some folks’ young one 


LISTENS TO EEASON 


195 


you’d had to go to school every day after the 
water went down. ’ ’ 

Well, Tildy, I felt too bad to go when my 
father was so sick. And I guess he isn’t goin’ 
to send me any more. We’re goin’ to move 
away! ” 

Tildy ’s countenance softened by degrees to 
actual wistfulness. Still she combated the as- 
sertion. 

That’s just talk. My mother says he won’t 
leave the Eocky Fork. ’ ’ 

Oh, but Liza and Aunt Melissa and him 
say it’s so. Aunt Melissa wants us to live at 
her house, and she knows lots of people that 
will let my father doctor them. And maybe 
I’ll go to a seminary,” said Bluebell with awe. 
‘ ‘ That ’s a grand, very fine school, Tildy, where 
you learn to play on a py-anna, and paint flow- 
ers, and everybody studies big books! Aunt 
Melissa says, ‘ You are running too many risks, 
Maurice, and how are you going to educate the 
children? ’ And he says, ‘ I thought of the 
children when I was in the water.’ Liza she 
cried on her apron, and Aunt Melissa took her 
handkerchief out of her reddycule and cried on 


196 


ROCKY FORK 


that, and father looked very solemn and says, 
‘ They owe everything to yon, Liza/ Then 
Liza says she wonT stand in anybody’s light, 
and she’s seen it all along. So they talked a 
good many times. And every time, they talked 
more like we’s goin’ away. Liza has begun to 
knit my speckled white-and-red winter stock- 
ings.” 

They had now reached the run. Tildy took 
Roxana up and lifted her across the stones. 
On the other side, it was her proposal to make 
a saddle to carry the baby up the slope. So 
Bluebell grasped one of her own wrists, palm 
downward, and Tildy grasped one of her own, 
and with their free hands they then grasped 
each other’s free wrists, thus forming a square 
and substantial seat on which Rocco sat down 
when they stooped for her. She held to Tildy ’s 
shoulder and Bluebell’s neck as they went on. 
Riding on this kind of saddle is most exhilara- 
ting. If your bearers stumble you have the 
chance of alighting on your feet, yet you see 
the world from an elevated position and at your 
ease. 

They heard the loom before they entered the 


LISTENS TO REASON 


197 


house. Mrs. Banks was weaving, and Teeny 
was sitting on the doorstep in the shade, sewing 
quilt-pieces. Teeny was quite devoted to this 
industry. She had a very young-womanish 
air. Her hair was twisted in a knob with some 
pinks in it, and her mother’s largest apron was 
tied around her plain-waisted dress. 

The floors were all bare at Liza-Robert’s 
house, though she wove endless carpets for her 
prouder neighbors. The children went into the 
loom-room, which was nearly filled by that huge 
frame. There were threads stretching diag- 
onally and crossing each other in front of her, 
between which she shot a shuttle from side to 
side; then she pulled an overhanging frame- 
work twice, and it sent the bobbin-thread, 
which was called a filling, home to its place in 
the web, with a not unmusical sound. The web 
this time was a linsey cloth with variegated 
threads through it, intended for the girls’ win- 
ter dresses. 

She took Rocco up on her lap, let her struggle 
to guide the shuttle through, and made believe 
that the baby pulled the frame-work. 

Little innocent! ” said Liza-Robert; it’ll 


198 


ROCKY FORK 


be the only stroke she’ll ever weave. They have 
things different in fine towns.” 

I want a drink,” said Tildy. She went 
out, followed by her faithful Bluebell. They 
ran down to that spring-house spared by the 
late flood, and opened the door into its cool- 
ness. The ground was clear again, and the 
yellow-faced crocks stood in their accustomed 
places with the overflow of the spring purling 
around them. The spring itself was so clear 
and cold and alive to its duty that there was 
pleasure in only hanging over it to see your 
face below. Tildy broke off leaves from pep- 
permint stalks, and bending them so they could 
be pinned with stems, made cups for Bluebell 
and herself. They dipped and emptied these 
thimble-sized cups until the breasts of their 
dresses were wet, utterly ignoring the gourd 
which hung on a nail just at hand. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


BLUEBELL AND TILDY 

rpHEN they went behind the garden and 
^ along the eastern hill-slope, and gathered 
unto themselves large families of elders. 

A little girl who has never played with these 
woods-babies cannot realize the delight there 
is in them. Warm from the sun and freshly 
green, they seemed more olive than the most 
complete doll. It always gave Bluebell a heart- 
ache to come upon a pile of withered elders 
left from a former play. She would dig out 
Rosa, or Lilly, or Alice, and look sorrowfully 
at the crackling drapery and shrunken body of 
that departed companion. 

The elders were in bloom, so Tildy and Blue- 
bell p Tended the white, fragrant smear 
made of so many little cups was a daughter’s 
white skirt hanging below her green gown ; for 
it was quite the thing then for a child’s em- 
broidered skirt to show its rich hand-work 


200 


ROCKY FORK 


below tbe short dress. The girls plunged into 
the midst of the elder thicket, surrounded by 
its incense, and came out with rustling arm- 
loads. To make an elder doll, you break it 
smoothly from the parent stem, and how beau- 
tifully the pith shows in the top of its head! 
then you leave arms at a suitable distance be- 
low — the elder’s branches spring on exactly 
opposite sides — and strip all the leaves from 
these, except three at the extremities, which 
are hands. And last, you give the darling a 
length of bare stem for waist, and place her 
before you to admire the delicate brown bark 
of her face, which has an expression individual 
and distinct from the faces of her sisters. 

Tildy and Bluebell sought their favorite 
play-houses up the hill, their arms loaded, and 
each leading an active young elder by the hand. 
The play-houses were some distance from their 
school-path. 

‘‘We ain’t been here for so long,” remarked 
Bluebell, panting up the steep with her family ; 
“ I wonder if anything’s broke our acorn 
dishes? ” 

Tildy ’s house was a big rock cropping out 


BLUEBELL AND TILDY 


201 


of the soil. She had up-stairs and down- 
stairs,’^ for it was easy to go around behind 
and step on the top of the rock. Her down- 
stairs was well rugged with moss, but the gray 
floor up-stairs stood bare and cool in the wood- 
shadows. Bluebell’s residence was a mighty 
stump, cut clean and smooth at the top. She 
had dragged a fragment of rock near for a 
doorstone, and lived on that smooth, many- 
ringed floor. She had a back kitchen, of course, 
behind the stump, where her acorn delft was 
stored on little shelves made of bark, propped 
with pebbles from the run. A fleece of vivid 
moss, finer than the most gorgeous Persian 
rug, covered this kitchen. The late storm had 
only brightened this ; but alas ! her shelves and 
acorn cups were all to be built and stored again. 

They placed themselves in their respective 
dwellings, surrounded by daughters, and talked 
across. 

Now, le’s play TJiinhs-I-to-Myself!** said 
Bluebell; ‘‘it’s such a funny book; and there’s 
Miss Mandeville, and Robert, and Miss Twist, 
and old Mrs. Creepmouse — ain’t that a queer 
name, Tildy I I read it all through, and skipped 


202 


EOCKY FORK 


the parts where it was long. You have one of 
your dolls be Robert, and I have one of mine 
be Emily Mandeville. ^ ’ 

Tildy allowed this to be done. The hero of 
Thinhs-l-to-Myself was made of a very jaunty 
elder switch; and the girls put themselves into 
parts and at the same time moved their pup- 
pets. Robert sent a valentine of a grape-vine 
leaf to Miss Mandeville ; and Miss Mandeville 
used the language which she did in the book; 
and Miss Twist appeared at the ball pinned all 
over with flounces of her natural bloom, while 
an emerald chain of grass graced her neck. It 
was very interesting; but when they came to 
the marriage of the hero and heroine, the mov- 
ers of the drama were at a loss for a suitable 
ceremony. They had never seen a wedding. 

Just join their hands,’’ said Tildy, and 
I’ll say ^ Bow-wow-whiddle-ink — Bow-wow- 
whiddle-ink! ’ That will do as well as any- 
thing.” 

So the three-leaved palm of Miss Emily was 
laid in the three-leaved palm of gallant Robert, 
and twisted together, and the couple propped 
by a tree. Overhead great branches were rock- 


BLUEBELL AND TILDY 


203 


ing with a musical rustle, and further up the 
hill a squirrel barked. Ants crept up the dra- 
pery of the bride-expectant, and a bunch of 
ferns moved as if to fan her. 

Tildy took her stand in front, and Bluebell 
stood by, grouped around with the other char- 
acters in Thinks-I-to-Myself, such of them as 
could not stand lying gracefully on their backs. 
Tildy opened her mouth and said ‘ ^ Bow — ^ ^ 
when Teeny, leading the baby, appeared on the 
scene. 

DidnT you hear me call you to supper? ’’ 
she asked. 

“ No, we didnT hear anything.” 

What you doing? ” 

‘‘ Ain’t doin’ anything,” returned Tildy, 
somewhat shamefaced. Her weakness for el- 
ders was something Teeny failed to appreciate. 

<< We’ve played a story out of a book,” ex- 
plained Bluebell, '' and now they are standing 
up to get married, and Tildy is going to say 
‘ Bow-wow- whiddle-ink ! ’ ” 

No, I ain’t! ” 

Oh, Tildy, please go on. And old Mrs. 
Creepmouse died, and we buried her tmder 


204 


EOCKY FOEK 


grass, with bushes for stones at her head and 
feet.^’ 

Teeny gurgled in her throat. She was a real 
grown young woman, you know, who sewed 
quilt-pieces and had one Eising Sun and 
Pride of the West ’’ done and quilted in shell- 
pattern and laid away. Still she did not laugh 
out loud, and kindly volunteered to help the 
bridal party out of their predicament. 

You can marry them by the old Connecti- 
cut law.’’ 

How, Teeny! Oh, you do it! ” 

So Teeny approached and said : 

By the old Connecticut law, 

I marry this Indian to the squaw; 

Kiss her and take her for your bride : 

Now I pronounce you man and wife 

All your life.” 

‘‘ Oh, how beautiful that was! ” sighed Blue- 
bell. It doesn’t make any difference ’cause 
they wasnH Indians, does it? Now le’s put 
’em in the houses, and cry ‘ good-by.’ Every- 
body in the book cries when they talk. I don’t 
see what made ’em cry when they just say 


BLUEBELL AND TILDY 


205 


something. It says ‘ cried my father,’ ‘ cried 
Miss Mandeville.’ I s’pose they felt had.” 

Eocco helped to pile the elder-people, who 
had served their time and must lie shrivelling 
to-morrow, upon the rock and the stump. Then 
the human dolls who would have so many sto- 
ries to play in their lives, went down hill 
chattering together, and sat on split-bottomed 
chairs around Liza’s table. Eocco was lifted 
by Josephus and the other available books in 
the house. Their most luxurious dishes were 
custard and red currants ; and the yellow faces 
of some of the crocks had yielded up their rich 
wrinkles, and they had cookies, which Liza 
indulgently let them crumble in the cream. 

“ Don’t go home yet,” commanded Tildy, 
when the first star was trembling out of the 
evening light and the household gathered out- 
side the door on chairs or step. I’ll take you 
clear to the bars, so you won’t be ’fraid if it’s 
dark. ’ ’ 

‘‘I ain’t a coward,” remarked Doctor 
Garde’s valiant little girl. Doctor Garde’s 
baby sat by Liza-Eobert’s knee. The evening 
milking was strained away in the spring-house. 


206 


EOCKY FOEK 


and the day’s tasks were told. Teeny had 
pieced a dozen blocks; the mother folded her 
bony and work-worn hands, and looked toward 
the horizon with patient, meditative eyes. 

Hush! ” said Tildy; “ if you’d hear 
mother tell about the child in the blackberry 
patch, it ’ud make you a coward ! ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE CHILD m THE BLACKBEEEY PATCH 

‘TpELL it,” begged Bluebell. 

Liza-Robert removed her eyes from the 
horizon and shook her head at Tildy. Her own 
girls were companions, to whom she freely im- 
parted the most eldritch tales and wonders; 
but Doctor Garde objected to having his chil- 
dren's imaginations tinctured with the folk- 
lore of the region. She was so tender and in- 
dulgent, however, that no child need plead with 
her long. All gathered closer around her knees 
to hear the story of the child who wandered in 
the blackberry patch. 

It was just after I was married,” said 
Liza-Robert, and long before Christeeny was 
bom, that Robert come home one night from 
the Furnace and told us he had heard some- 
thing in the blackberry patch. That was be- 
fore we bought this land, and we lived in part 
of the old homestead and Abram’s folks lived 


207 


208 


EOCKY FOEK 


in the other part. It was a good three miles 
to the Furnace, but Eobert walked there and 
back every day, and usually got home after 
dark. This was a summer night, and drizzlin’ 
rain. He said it was yellow in the west, and 
the last thing the sun did as it went down was 
to make a rainbow, and that rainbow stood with 
one foot across the Eocky Fork, and the other 
away up in the laurels. Eobert he crossed the 
blackberry patch about dusk.” 

I know the blackberry patch,” said Blue- 
bell. Her mind mapped and tinted it. A high, 
undulating place terraced around with hills, 
and a large notch of sky showing in the west; 
blackberry thickets were grouped over it ; there 
the katydids and cicadae sang unceasingly, and 
grasshoppers thumped all over you, penetra- 
ting to the tightest part of your clothing, ap- 
parently seeking to be crushed, or to be re- 
lieved of a leg, while their bulging eyes ex- 
pressed sulky reproach. It was a very lone- 
some place, full of echoes, and rank with grass, 
in which some of the boasted copperheads of 
the region had been killed. 

But it was lots wilder then,” pursued Liza. 


IN THE BLACKBEREY PATCH 209 


Part o’ the bushes have been grubbed out 
since that time. But there was a sort of path 
some o’ the men livin’ on the east road had 
worn right straight through it. 

So Robert he was about the middle of the 
patch when he hears a child begin to cry like 
its heart was breaking. Thinks he, somebody 
has been here pickin’ berries to-day, and left a 
child behind. So he begun to call to it and tell 
it not to be afraid. Bob Banks was there, and 
he’d take it home. He waded into the grass 
and looked in different places for it. Now it 
seemed right at his hand, and now it would 
sound away off up the hills. It was the most 
mournful crying he ever heard; but hunt as 
he might he couldn’t get sight of the child. 
So, after waitin’ till it got too dark to see, he 
came home, and was for going back with Abram 
and a lantern to find that child. 

They got the lantern and went back and 
hunted that patch high and low, but never saw 
any child nor heard any cheep of it, and their 
wamuses was ready to wring out when they got 
home. 

Next day was Sunday, and we all went to 


210 


EOCKY FORK 


mornin’ meetin\ The neighbor women hadnT 
any of ’em been blackberryin’ the day before, 
and hadn’t heard of any lost child. So we’d 
have laughed at Robert if Eli Ridenour hadn’t 
come past the Furnace Monday with his story. 
He^d heard the child in that patch. He was 
coming through there about midnight Sunday 
night, when the most sorrowful cryin’ anybody 
ever heard begun right close to him. Eli was 
always cowardly, and he took to his heels. He 
said it sounded like a woman swishin’ through 
the grass with her long dress, and cryin’ lone- 
some-like. But Robert stuck to it, it was more 
like a child scared half to death. 

‘ ‘ People begun to think there was something 
wrong with that patch. Some said it was a 
gang of bad men that wanted to steal and had 
a cave somewhere near the patch; for there 
was a gang took in a cave ’way up the Rocky 
Fork when I wasn’t much older than this baby. 
Mother Banks often told about it. And some 
said it was a child brought there to be lost and 
wander ’round till it died — ” 

Like the babes in the woods,” murmured 
Bluebell. 


IN THE BLACKBEREY PATCH 211 


— ‘‘By folks that wasn’t as good as they 
ought to be. And all kinds of stories were told. 
Some saw it settin’ ’way up in a tree all in 
white, and some heard it under the ground, as 
if it was buried up and couldn’t get out. Mr. 
Willey otfered to go before a ’squire and make 
affidavit that he saw its eyes through the 
bushes, and they looked like live coals. 

“ So the neighbor men got together and 
stayed in the patch at night; they was bound 
and determined to find that child. They didn’t 
hear a thing of it, and along in the night all of 
’em fell asleep except Robert and Mr. Willey. 
They were all lying on the grass by a lot of 
blackberry bushes, and several of the men had 
their guns, for there was all kinds of suspicions, 
you know. And Robert said all of a sudden 
that crying begun again, up the hill at the back 
of the patch, and it was enough to melt a heart 
of stone. Mr. Willey and Robert they takes 
their guns, and they slips along — ” 

The children clustered closer to Liza’s knee. 
Rocco opened her mouth ; her black eyes scin- 
tillated through the dusk; and Bluebell threw 
a glance at the dark woods above the house. 


212 


EOCKY FOEK 


So they slips along and along, close to the 
ground. It was starlight enough to make things 
out pretty well. And what do you think they 
came across right at the edge of the woods? ” 
Oh, a little lost baby! ’’ cried Doctor 
Garde’s little girl, ‘‘ just like Mr. Post in the 
First Eeader 1 I always loved that story. ’ ’ 

Tildy puffed in derision. 

It was somethin’ with great big shinin’ 
eyes — ’ ’ 

‘‘ Oh,” pleaded Bluebell, it wasn't the 
thing that came after Peggy’s Gold Leg? ” 
No,” said Liza, laughing; it was an 
animal a good deal bigger than a dog; and it 
was all ready to spring off of a limb at them 
when Eobert fired his gun, and over it rolled ! ’ ’ 
’Twas a painter! ” announced Tildy, with 
a flourish of triumph. 

Bluebell crouched in her seat. Had Tildy 
pronounced it panther,” this would have 
meant little to her. But a ‘‘painter! ” The 
Eocky Fork colloquialism bristled with terrors. 
A “ painter ” had degrees of ferocity which 
even a bear could not attain. Lions were the 
only superiors to “ painters,” and, after all, 


IN THE BLACKBEEBY PATCH 213 


the name of lion had not that hoUow, frightful 
sound to be found in painter! ” 

0 my! breathed Bluebell. 

Eoxana hid her head under Liza’s apron. 

They skinned it,” said Liza; and this 
enabled the children to breathe more freely. A 
skinned painter ” cannot be as formidable 
to the mind as one with his robes on. And 
weVe got the skin yet. I Ve heard tell painters 
would cry like women or children to draw folks 
near so they could eat them. But that’s the 
only one shot on the Eocky Fork since this 
country was new. We always called it ‘ The 
Child in the Blackberry Patch.’ ” 

There were those dear elder dollies lying in 
the play-houses up hill. All night they must 
hear the trees whisper — now low, as if just 
dropping asleep; now loud, and breathing 
deeply, as if startled by something more than 
a fresh breeze: they must hear the mysterious 
crackling of twigs, the fall of some crumbling 
part of a rotten log, the hoot of night-owls, the 
rattle of the tree-frog, and the dense cry of 
insects which made the air one unbroken sheet 
of sound ; the dew would gather on their barky 


214 


EOCKY FOEK 


faces. Of course they were nothing but elders 
— but were they at all afraid? — or telling 
painter ’’ stories among themselves? Hour 
by hour their juices would dry, and to-morrow 
the bright and blooming Emily Mandeville and 
the bedizened Miss Twist would be old and 
withered elders, and day after to-morrow you 
might grind them to powder ! 

A voice calling from the lower bars with a 
horn-like rise and fall — a homely, but a com- 
fortable sound — summoned not Eose and Pi- 
dey, but the children, to come home. 

Ah! ” sighed Bluebell, as she rose reluc- 
tantly. She was very loath to ask, but she 
wanted to know so badly. That painter’s 
dead now, ain’t it, Liza? ” 

Why, honey, it was killed long before 
Teeny was bom ! ” This was indeed a relief. 


CHAPTEE XX 


THE LAST TIME 

TT7HEN everything was settled, the Rocky 
» ▼ Forkers said they were not surprised 
that Doctor Garde was going to move. A man 
always ought to better himself ; but they hoped 
he would better himself. The Rocky Fork was 
rough and hilly, but some towns might be 
worse. 

Miss Calder was to take the children home 
with her; but the doctor, able to ride about 
with his arm in a sling, had to collect fees and 
settle his business before departing to a new 
field. 

So Bluebell came the last time to the log 
schoolhouse. She might not see it again. 

‘ ‘ The children shall visit you every summer, 
Liza,’’ said the young man. 

“ And you must come to see them,” urged 
Miss Melissa. But Liza knew the old time was 
forever broken up. And Bluebell knew that 
215 


216 


EOCKY FORK 


when she came back the schoolhouse would not 
be her schoolhouse, nor Mr. Pitzer, if he still 
reigned, her master; yet in her bustle and 
anticipation, regrets were crowded to a corner 
of her mind, and she felt important on this 
last day. Mr. Pitzer had written a beautiful 
parting address to her on half a tall foolscap 
sheet, in his fairest hand, upstrokes light and 
downstrokes artistically shaded, with such 
wonderful turning W’s and other capitals, 
throwing fantastic vines all around. He had 
ornamented the top with a bird and a fish in 
red and green inks, each being deftly finished 
by a continuous flourish without the pen having 
been lifted from the paper. The address be- 
gan, ‘‘ Dear Youth; and went on to describe 
life as a stream, and a child as a young voy- 
ager who was bidden to beware of quicksands, 
whose sky your old friend hoped might be ever 
free from storms. In concluding he said, 
‘‘ How touching is a young and interesting 
mind just unfolding its petals to the sunlight ! 
Whoever shall bring it to perfect flower, it 
will always be a source of pleasure to your old 
friend to remember that he was the first to 


THE LAST TIME 


217 


lead it in the ways of knowledge. May heaven 
bless and richly endow my yonng friend ! 

‘‘ Your schoolmaster, 

“ Thomas Pitzer.’^ 

Bluebell folded the paper reverently. She 
could not read many of the words; it was 
necessary to add more years to her life before 
this production could be appreciated in its mag- 
nitude. But she was very grateful for such a 
testimonial, and some odd tender string began 
vibrating in her little heart. Oh, dear Mr. 
Pitzer ! and dear old benches that smelled like 
the chest carved by Antony of Trent! The 
very dunce-cap was a thing of joy when she 
thought of it ! How funny it looked on a blub- 
bering little boy who would not repent of his 
misdeeds until he was stood in the middle of 
the floor with that paper cone on his head! 
Should she ever know again the hungry smell 
of a reticule that has a few stale crumbs in it? 
She had her way all day. She visited, and 
when she and Tildy asked to go after the water, 
not a soul in school would have been a rival 
candidate for the same office. 


218 


EOCKY FOEK 


They brought back bunches of honeysuckle 
from Langley ^s well, and the smell of that 
flower became forever associated in BluebelFs 
mind with worm-eaten benches, clay-chinked 
walls and the stirring air of the hills. She 
wore her best blue calico, and felt so dressed 
up as to have lost part of her identity. So 
Tildy rested the pail-handle on a stick, and 
silently carried the short end herself. And 
when they put the water-pail on its bench in 
the corner, Joe Hall got permission to pass it 
around (another fat office in primitive school- 
life), and not one mouth within those walls 
could refuse to press the dripping gourd when 
it presented itself, splashing cold drops on bare 
feet, or sending delicious shudders through 
thinly covered limbs. When Joe Hall reached 
Bluebell, he dropped in her lap not only a 
thumb-paper bearing her name, but a lot of 
birds ingeniously folded in the pattern gen- 
erally accepted by the school. 

Perintha Pancost had her pocket so bulging 
full of new apples that it weighed her down, and 
all the scholars on her bench swallowed ex- 
pectantly. But, one after the other, they were 


THE LAST TIME 


219 


passed to Bluebell, through hands which only 
stopped them on the way for a smell ; so Blue- 
belEs pocket bulged, and she and Perintha ex- 
changed the most amiable and confiding smiles. 
Mr. Pitzer was so busy mending pens that he 
perhaps saw no occasion for bringing out and 
reading that article of the rules which forbade 
eating apples, condiments, and nuts, or going 
to dinner-hags in school hours,* ^ 

How kind all those boys and girls were! 
John Tegarden showed her the Death of the 
Flowers,” in the Fourth Eeader, which he was 
learning to speak before summer school was 
out, for the last day; ” and, as it had a mel- 
ancholy tone. Bluebell felt vaguely compli- 
mented. She would be away otf in Sharon on 
that day; she would not even see the prizes 
distributed, to say nothing of missing that 
spelling prize herself. 

Some of the parents who were not too busy 
harvesting, would be there in their Sunday 
clothes ; the children themselves would appear 
in different character, all shod in stiff shoes 
or jaunty slippers ; the fortunate girls in white 
dotted Swiss, or book muslin, with rosettes of 


220 


EOCKY FOEK 


ribbon in their tightly braided hair, the poorer 
ones in starched calico ; the boys dressed ex- 
actly like their fathers, and looking like little 
old men, very much subdued by the calamity 
of clothes. 

But still there probably were grander gala 
days in Sharon. 

Amanda Willey would have Bluebell stand 
next to her in the ring at noon when they 
played 1 lost my glove yesterday, found it 
to-day/^ Of course Tildy stood on the other 
side, and Perintha, who went around with the 
glove — which was simply and solely an empty 
reticule, there being no glove in the entire 
school wardrobe — dropped it behind Bluebell. 
They abstained from Drown the Duch,^^ be- 
cause she hated the tiresome ins and outs, and 
was sure to be drowned by dashing straight at 
the leader. 

Even the boys left Bull in the Pen,^^ and 

Mad Dog,^^ to say nothing of Base ’’ and 

Three Old Cat,^^ and condescended to play 
for once with the girls, if the girls would play 
that variation of Hide and Seek known to 
them as Hickamy-dickamy ; and to Blue- 


THE LAST TIME 


221 


bell was reserved the right of repeating the 
cabalistic formula by which the panting and 
eager crowd was narrowed down to the one 
party who had to hide his eyes. With dipping 
forefinger she went the rounds, rejoicing in the 
liquid roll of the words : 

" Hickamy-dickamy, aliga-mo; 

Dick slew, aligo-slum; 

Hulkum, pulkum, peeler’s gum: 

France — you’re out!” 

The lot fell on Minerva Eidenour, that little 
baby-faced thing who was always standing 
about with her mouth open, as if perpetually 
astonished at the world, and who could not even 
eat an apple without showing how her white 
first-teeth made cider of the fruit. There were 
plenty of places to hide : behind logs and trees, 
behind the schoolhouse and the schoolhouse 
door. Before she had counted a hundred, with 
her eyes hid against the base, not a bobbing 
head or glint of calico could be seen in the land- 
scape; and when, rubbing the smear which 
darkness had made, off her sight, she wandered 
cautiously a few yards from the base, lo I there 


222 


ROCKY FORK 


were a half a dozen long-legged fellows patting 
it, having swooped from overhanging branches 
or from behind logs. Forms appeared every- 
where, and the little Black Man ran valiantly, 
but overtook only one or two at the base, where 
she patted excitedly, calling the individual 
names of the entire school, until she was 
checked, and reminded if she called anybody's 
name before he appeared, that party could 

come in free.’’ Joe Hall and John Tegarden 
remained out when all the rest stood in a scar- 
let and perspiring group ! and it was ludicrous 
to see Minerva fly back to the base as if drawn 
by an elastic rope which she had stretched, 
every time an alarm rose behind her or she saw 
a suspicious spot. On the other hand, the 
found majority shouted warning or encourage- 
ment to the invisibles : 

‘ ‘ Lay low, Joe ! ” 

“Run, John, now’s your time! Run! run! 
run! ” 

John had hid in the hollow towards the 
Rocky Fork, and his long legs at his distance 
were pretty equally matched against Minerva’s 
tardier feet at her distance. It was an exciting 


THE LAST TIME 


223 


moment, in which the majority patted its hands 
and knees and shouted with all its might. Mi- 
nerva came in gallantly, but John reached over 
her at the last instant and patted the base: 
'‘One, two, three!’' And then his impetus 
carried him sprawling on the ground. It was 
John’s nature to throw his entire sensitive soul 
into what he undertook, and he did not enjoy 
the girls’ laughing and the hoys’ hooting as he 
scrambled upon ' ' all-fours. ’ ’ He did not know 
he was to do martial service for his country 
and to die the death of a soldier. The noble 
possibilities of the boy were at that time only 
apparent in his tenderness of heart. It was an 
aggravation to an awkward fellow like John 
to see Joe Hall sail in and encircle the base 
while Minerva was farthest from it, as if Mer- 
cury’s wings grew on his neatly moving heels; 
pat it triumphantly, and step back with his head 
up, as if graceful success was a matter of course 
for him. 

Oh, they had so much fun ! If there was any- 
thing in the world more exhilarating than run- 
ning right through when the Black Man calls, 
Doctor Garde’s little girl had yet to encounter 


224 


EOCKY FOEK 


it. Then there was that similar play, with a 
shiver in it : 

How many miles to Barley-bright ? ” 

Three score and ten.^’ 

Can I get there by candle-light ? ” 

Yes, if the witches don’t catch you ! ” 

But the school-day ended. Bluebell put her 
reader and spelling-book into her reticule. She 
got one last head-mark. And the lessons the 
higher classes had read that afternoon, made 
a background of thought in her mind — the 
magnificently worded Con-fia-gra-tion of an 
Am-phi- theatre, ” and that rousing story of a 
son’s return, beginning, It was night. The 
widow of the Pine Cottage had laid on her last 
fagot.” 

One by one the boys and girls went out, bow- 
ing or curtsying to the master, and he laid 
special emphasis on the Good-evemug ” 
which he gave Bluebell. 

How soon it was all over! And how soon 
the very evening before her departure had 
come! The clothes she was to wear on the 
journey were laid out on a chair, and her moth- 


THE LAST TIME 


225 


er’s trunk brought down from the garret, re- 
paired and packed. After all, it was decided 
to let Eoxana stay with Liza until her father 
was ready to depart. In her own flutter. Blue- 
bell scarcely anticipated missing the baby. 

Tildy came over to stay all night, and they 
played until late. She brought her John 
Eogers’ Primer as a parting gift for Bluebell 
to remember her by.’’ Its frontispiece rep- 
resented the martyr, John Eogers, burning at 
the stake, surrounded by soldiers with axes, 
and his numerous family, in very short-waisted 
gowns or mature-looking coats. The delightful 
rhymes within its covers almost repeated them- 
selves : 

Time cuts down all, 

Both great and small.” 

In Adam’s fall 
We sin-ned all.” 

Zaccheus he 
Did climb a tree. 

His lord and master 
For to see ; ” 

and many others with an old-fashioned tang 
like that of a winter apple kept far into the 


226 


ROCKY FORK 


spring. And there was, besides, John Rogers’s 
address to his children. On receiving this pre- 
cious pamphlet. Bluebell drew from her own 
stores her oldest and dearest book, the 

Hymns for Infant Minds , in pink paste- 
board covers. There was this prime favorite : 

My father, my mother, I know, 

I cannot your kindness repay; 

But I hope as the older I grow, 

I shall learn your commands to obey. 

You loved me before I could tell 
Who it was that so tenderly smiled; 

But now that I know it so well, 

I should be a dutiful child.’^ 

And there, too, was Mr. Pitzer’s battle piece ; 

" Let dogs delight,” &c.. 

And, 

I thank the goodness and the grace 
Which on my birth has smiled ; ” 

with dozens of other gently stimulating hymns 
which Bluebell had long known by heart. In 
giving this book to Tildy, she gave as nearly 
a part of her identity as could be separated 
from herself. 

Morning came — early, but moist and shady 


THE LAST TIME 


227 


among the hills. The girls were up before any- 
body else in the house. Tildy hooked Bluebell 
up with maternal care, and combed the tangles 
out of her hair with an energy which came near 
straining their friendship at that last moment. 

Then Liza bustled about breakfast, and the 
baby waked in the unusual stir. Miss Melissa 
moved out of her chamber in the dignified habit 
which she had laid aside after her arrival at 
the Eocky Fork. Father did not ride away 
until the party was ready to start. Abram 
with his spring-wagon was to drive them to the 
station: father was still a left-handed horse- 
man. 

The last, and almost the very best, breakfast 
of Rocky Fork life was just over, when Rob- 
ert’s Liza and Teeny came trailing up the 
meadow, their dresses deeply touched with 
dew. Teeny brought her rough-coated china 
lamb as a parting gift ; she had outgrown such 
toys; but Bluebell could only give her a kiss 
in return, for all her treasures were under lock 
and key. 

Then a rattling was heard along the lane, 
and Abram appeared with his horse and spring- 


228 


EOCKY FORK 


wagon. He had two split-bottomed chairs for 
his travellers, but for himself, a board across 
the wagon was good enough. He let down the 
bars, and drove in to take on the trunks. And 
then Bluebell realized that she was going away 
from home ! 

Does the child leave you so lightly, old 
weather-beaten house! Never mind. Years 
will bring you your revenge: you will live in 
her mind forever, a symbol of joy which does 
not come when we are older. 

She is squeezing the little sister, responding 
to Tildy^s stoical hug — and Tildy starts 
straight to the lower bars, her brimming eyes 
turned from the company. Liza-Robert is ca- 
ressing her with some pious words, and now 
she is tight in Liza’s arms, just realizing how 
soft and comfortable and dear they have been. 
She hangs to Liza while Miss Melissa makes 
her adieux, and Teeny gives her another pat 
as Abram hoists her into the vehicle. 

Father is ready on his Arabian to ride beside 
them as far as Mary Ann post-office. They will 
take the long way around the hills. 

The bars are put up behind them. Bluebell 


THE LAST TIME 


229 


looks back and sees her group of friends mov- 
ing into tbe house, and hears Eocco ’s voice — 
like the voice of the old house — calling per- 
sistently : 

Good-by, B’uebeU, good-by! Good-by, 
Bluebell! 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE FIRST RAILROAD TRAIN 

“^ATHER,’^ said Doctor Garde’s little girl, 
when she saw the branching road ahead 
on which he must ride away from her, ‘‘ you 
won’t get into the Rocky Fork again, will 
you? ” 

‘‘ If I do, it will barely reach my saddle- 
girth now,” replied father, smiling. 

But you’ll be careful, won’t you, father? ” 

‘‘Yes, I’ll be careful.” 

Both his horse and Abram’s wagon were 
checked when the roads separated, while a few 
adieux were said. He shook hands with Miss 
Melissa and kissed his little girl. In a few 
moments he was cantering away, and Bluebell 
felt launched on the unknown world by herself. 
There was Abram, however, a figure to whom 
she had been accustomed so large a part of her 

230 


THE FIRST RAILROAD TRAIN 231 


life. And though he seemed nothing but a fig- 
ure now, driving silently and looking straight 
ahead, for Abram was a reticent man, he was 
most significant of home. It was a long drive 
to the railroad station. Mary Ann post-office 
was quite hack in the wilderness, and Bluebell 
had always thought it a suburb of the great 
world. 

They stopped in the woods far from any 
house, and had their dinner. Liza had put up 
the best of lunches and plenty of cold tea. 
Abram unhitched his horse and led it to a 
stream to drink; then he took a sack of feed 
from the space behind the trunks, and fed it. 
Miss Calder and Bluebell sat on their chairs, 
but Abram took his dinner resting on the grass. 
When they had stopped half an hour by Miss 
Calder ’s time, he hitched the horse again, and 
they moved briskly forward lest they should 
be too late at the station for the afternoon 
Baltimore and Ohio passenger train. 

As they came down a slope. Doctor Garde’s 
little girl saw what she thought was an im- 
mense long boat sliding across a grassy plain 
with a roar which terrified her. It was as 


232 


ROCKY FORK 


strange a sight as a blue or scarlet moon in the 
sky. 

Oh, look at that! she cried: “ what is 
it? ’’ 

That’s the east-bound passenger,” said 
Miss Melissa. “ Our train will be down soon 
now.” ■ 

So that strange vision was the cars.” 

She had heard of their rapid motion, and 
was prepared to see them shoot like a meteor ; 
they were a little disappointing in that respect. 
But the smoke, the noise! And the possible 
danger! Suppose that train had changed its 
direction, and had run up the slope straight at 
Abram’s wagon! Bluebell had no doubt the 
mysterious sliding power could move where it 
pleased. But when they alighted at the sta- 
tion, she saw stretching in front of it, and as 
far as eye could see on each side until the par- 
allel lines became points or disappeared behind 
hills, iron rails laid on a prepared road. This 
was the railroad ; the flying boat could not leave 
it for a turf track and prosper. Here was mat- 
ter for congratulation; but a new fear arose 
in the little girl’s mind which she would not on 


THE FIEST EAILEOAD TEAIN 233 


any account have betrayed. If the cars ran 
on wheels, as Aunt Melissa explained that they 
did, how could those wheels keep from slipping 
otf the polished tops of the rails? and if they 
departed ever so little. Bluebell knew what 
must follow. Her vision of riding on the cars 
began to take a lurid nimbus. Still, other peo- 
ple had ventured and lived. 

The station was a small, lonely building, but 
several handsome farm-houses could be seen 
in the landscape. There were two rooms in- 
side, in one of which a little machine clicked all 
the time. There were poles all along the rail- 
road, with wires stretched along their tops, and 
Bluebell noticed that these wires came down 
through a window to this machine. She knew 
what that was. It was the telegraph. She had 
heard things went more quickly over that than 
over the railroad. 

I hope father and Eocketty will ride on 
that when they come to Aunt Melissa’s house,” 
she thought. Wouldn’t the baby’s eyes pop 
when they went spinning along so fast! But 
what do folks do when they get to the poles? 
I should think the tops of the poles ’ud hit ’em. 


234 


ROCKY FORK 


I guess they just swing round the poles and 
go on. I don’t believe I could go very fast if 
they was telegraphin’ me.” 

Miss Melissa sat on a bench in the station. 
Abram had attended to the tickets and had the 
trunks marked for delivery at Newark. He 
then drove his horse some distance away, and 
having secured it, came back to see his party 
off. 

Bluebell slipped her hand into his and stood 
by him on the platform. 

‘‘ You’ll soon be off now,” said he. 

Yes, sir.” 

“ Are you glad to get away from the Rocky 
Fork? ” 

‘‘ Oh, no, sir! But I want to learn at a big 
seminary.” 

That’s a fact,” said Abram, as if delibera- 
tion had convinced him of it. 

Mr. Banks, I s’pose you’ll see Tildy? ” 

‘‘ It’s likely I will; yes, it’s pretty likely.” 

If you do see her, I wish you would 
please tell her to write to me ; I forgot to ask 
her.” 

“ I don’t know’s she can write.” 


THE FIEST EAILROAD TRAIN 235 

But Teeny can. And Tildy said she was 
going to have a copybook as soon as her mother 
bought her some foolscap paper. I am going 
to learn to write. I am going to play music, 
too, Mr. Banks.’’ 

‘‘ Yes, it’s likely you’ll learn a heap of fine 
things. ’ ’ 

'' Don’t you s’pose Teeny would write a let- 
ter for Tildy? ” 

That don’t seem onreasonable, ” admitted 
Abram. Christeeny writes a fair hand. 
Robert, he was a good scholar. He read the 
Bible and Josephus clear through.” 

‘^Yes, sir. And Joe Hall said they were 
singin’ so nice at g’ography-school now.” 

That’s good learning,” said Abram, 
drolly; “ but ther’s many another thing a 
man’d better know than singin’ g’ogr’phy. 
F’rinstance: how to ford a creek! ” 

Before Doctor Garde’s little girl could do 
complete justice to this pleasantry, which she 
and Abram, of all persons, were able to appre- 
ciate, the air was rent with a scream that 
turned the whole landscape for one instant into 
a nightmare. 


236 


EOCKY FOEK 


That’s the cars,” said Abram; don’t you 
see the smoke cornin’ round the hill? ” 

Miss Calder came out on the platform. The 
glittering monster of the rails bore down upon 
them as if determined to have their lives. The 
station agent stood ready to attend to baggage 
or express matter. 

Before Bluebell could get her breath evenly, 
she was being helped up steps after Miss Cal- 
der, was walking along a long narrow room 
with windows on each side, and being seated 
beside Aunt Melissa on a velvet-upholstered 
seat. Eed, bright velvet, gayer than Eocco’s 
best flowered winter dress which Liza made 
of a remnant of brocaded velvet among moth- 
er’s things. The seats were very soft and 
spongy, too. Bluebell furtively bounced up 
and down while Miss Melissa was settling com- 
fortably. She sat on a seat facing her. A man 
obligingly turned it over for them. All at once 
the station began to slide backwards ; and be- 
fore she could recover from this, the woods and 
hills gently slipped away as if they had grown 
tired of such everlasting rest. The train was 
moving! What was a wagon or a horseback 


THE FIEST RAILEOAD TRAIN 237 

ride compared to this ! Teetering on a sapling, 
or on a board stuck through the fence, or swing- 
ing in a grape-vine, must forevermore be sec- 
ondary methods of motion. But where was 
Abram? She stretched her head out of the 
open window, and Miss Melissa nervously 
pulled her in just in time to save her flat from 
a flight. 

But Bluebell had seen Abram far back, plod- 
ding up the road behind the station. 

I didnT bid him good-by,^’ she thought 
ruefully, as this last symbol of her country 
home vanished from sight. She felt a momen- 
tary pang, such as maybe shoots through a 
little plant torn from its cherishing ground to 
be transplanted. 

But there was Aunt Melissa sitting up so 
grand, her veil over her face and her delicate 
gloved hands enclosing her vinaigrette, ready 
for the headache which threatened her when 
travelling. She was a symbol of that larger 
life opening before the child. 

Miss Calder was suffering a peculiar martyr- 
dom. In every fibre of her sensitive nature she 
felt that she had robbed the lonesome spinster 


238 


EOCKY FOEK 


among the hills, who had not half her resources. 
But, on the other hand, she had but performed 
her sacred duty to the dead and the living. 
She knew she was considering the welfare of 
the children more than her own wishes. It was 
a waste for the refined young doctor to spend 
his life and energies at the Eocky Fork when 
by her influence she could help him to a posi- 
tion better suited to him. He was so humble 
and sorrowful himself, he had not considered 
that he owed a future to his dead wife’s chil- 
dren. 

Still Miss Melissa felt she had performed a 
very painful duty, and regretted that she had 
not done it years before; for anything neg- 
lected brings with it long arrears of interest. 

But Bluebell was in a fever of delight. Every 
object seen on that journey was stamped upon 
her mind for life. 

When they slid into Newark, at which point 
their trip by rail ended, the city glamour en- 
veloped her. To be sure, they passed squalid 
houses, worse than the most illy kept cabins 
about the Eocky Fork; and she got swift 
glimpses of dirty children and pens of back 


THE FIRST RAILROAD TRAIN 239 


yards, — in short, of all the unsavory sights 
which spot the outskirts of a city. But these 
seemed picturesque. The folks must have a 
good time living in town.’^ If the children 
were filthy, they could have candy every day, 
probably, and walk on sidewalks. Teeny said 
folks in Fredericktown never soiled the soles of 
their shoes. And oh, how beautiful the tall 
buildings were, when the slowly moving train, 
ringing its bell in state, gave glimpses of them ! 
Streets stretching far as eye could see, carpets, 
dry goods, immense windows, people hurrying 
about dressed in their Sunday clothes and look- 
ing as if they felt the importance of living in 
town; carts rattling, long painted and gilded 
carriages with a man riding on top, appearing 
and disappearing around corners; and more 
than all, the roar of human life! How grand 
was a city! She even loved the smell of it, 
which consisted principally of escaping gas, 
not in good odor with more experienced noses. 

Doctor Garde’s little girl was in a nervous 
hurry to follow Aunt Melissa out of the train 
when it stopped. She remembered its imper- 
ceptible starting, and what should she do if it 


240 


ROCKY FORK 


carried her off by mistake? A man in blue 
clothes lifted her down from the last high step, 
and she kept close to Miss Calder. From the 
dingy brick depot came a light-haired, smiling 
man in very neat clothes. He carried a whip 
in his hand. 

‘‘ How do you do, Archibald? ’’ said Miss 
Calder with great affability. ‘‘ Have you got 
the carriage here? ’’ 

Archibald took off his hat and bowed, smi- 
ling all the time in the most laughter-provoking 
way, and replied that he was quite well, and 
hoped he saw Miss Calder looking well. The 
carriage was on the other side of the depot. 

Miss Calder said she was in excellent health, 
but felt threatened with a headache and would 
be glad to get home. She hoped everything 
had gone well. 

Archibald assured her everything had moved 
as usual, except the house didn’t seem the same ; 
and he would put her trunk up behind the car- 
riage immediately if she could wait one minute. 

‘‘ There are two trunks,” said Miss Calder: 

that one beside mine which that man is pull- 
ing out of the way, is Melissa’s.” 


THE FIRST RAILROAD TRAIN 241 


Archibald applied himself to loading the bag- 
gage on a rack behind the carriage. Then he 
made haste to open the door, let down the steps, 
and help his mistress and her charge in. The 
carriage was roomy and comfortable, and 
drawn by two fat sleepy-looking horses, black 
as coal and groomed until they glittered. They 
seemed on the best of terms with Archibald, 
who called them Coaly and Charley. 

Miss Calder leaned back with a satisfied sigh 
as they started. The cushions were easy and 
the stuffed back supported one to the shoulders. 

It was quite sunset when they left Newark 
behind and drove towards the yellowing west. 
The three or four miles intervening between 
the railroad town and Sharon was a succession 
of lovely landscapes, and seemed one of those 
suburban extensions which rich men love to 
beautify with their villas. There was no rug- 
gedness like that about the Rocky Fork. The 
hills rose in majestic proportions but softened 
outlines. In the afterglow left by sunset the 
country had an unearthly beauty. The road 
constantly broadened; villa after villa ap- 
peared, each standing in spacious grounds. 


242 


ROCKY FORK 


They reached the top of an ascent, and saw 
Sharon set below, surrounded by hills and glit- 
tering like a huge topaz in the evening light. 
As they descended they lost sight of her. She 
was drowned from view among her abundant 
foliage. Bluebell began to think the road had 
turned aside from her, when they came sweep- 
ing around a curve and past an artificial lake, 
and were in Sharon’s main street, so broad 
that many carriages like Miss Melissa’s could 
drive there abreast. The street was quite 
lively with carriages, and Miss Calder ex- 
changed greetings with numbers of people. 
One tall white building was beginning to glitter 
with lights from roof to ground. She knew it 
must be an important place, and asked with 
awe what it was. 

‘‘ That’s the seminary,” replied Miss Calder. 

Doctor Garde’s little girl felt almost dizzy 
as she was obliged to withdraw her eyes from 
the great mill of learning. 

They drove far up this wide street and 
turned down another. The carriage stopped. 
Archibald opened a gate and drove half way 
around a sweep under tall trees, and brought 


THE FIEST EAILEOAD TEAIN 243 


them to the steps of a large old house. It was 
brick. Bluebell could see vines massed over 
one whole end of it. There was a tall pillared 
veranda extending along the entire front. 

The hall-door was open, and within, a globe 
of light himg suspended from the ceiling. Blue- 
bell thought of the Discontented Cat who went 
to live with the Countess Von Eustenfusten- 
mustencrustenberg, as she was ushered into 
this hall and the double parlors which opened 
from it. She walked on bouquets of velvet 
flowers as large around as a tub. The lofty 
rooms appeared to Bluebell one vast collection 
of treasures. She did not know there were such 
pictures, such chairs and ornaments and 
lounges and curtains in the world. 

In this house three or four generations of 
Calders had lived and died. It was the first 
fine house built in Sharon by one of the Massa- 
chusetts colonists when the country was new. 
It had been remodeled and added to, and its 
furniture changed with the family tastes or for- 
tunes. But the Calders never destroyed an old 
thing. Its former belongings were sure to be 
preserved in some way. 


244 


EOCKY FOEK 


Miss Melissa entered lier own room which, 
opened from the back parlor, and took off her 
wraps, bidding Bluebell take off hers also. And 
again Doctor Garde’s little girl was astonished 
by the sumptuousness of her surroundings. 
Then Aunt Melissa opened a door into a bath- 
room, and refreshed herself by bathing her 
hands and face at a marble stand, and called 
Bluebell to do likewise. 


CHAPTER XXII 


MISS BIGGAE 

"OUT in spite of its beauty and spaciousness, 
this seemed rather a lonely house, Blue- 
bell thought, when she was ready for tea, and 
had nothing to do but gauge her surroundings. 
Aunt Melissa floated about, showing fatigue in 
every motion, but anxious to examine into the 
state of her house. Doctor Garde’s little girl 
wished for Rocco, or that Tildy would walk in, 
poking her toes into the pile of the carpets. 
Wouldn’t Tildy be s ’prised! About this time, 
she and Teeny were sitting on the front steps. 
And the wind from around the hill was rustling 
through the elders — dear elders! Rose and 
Pidey were standing to be milked. There was 
moonlight all over the Rocky Fork — but not 
like this lonesome-looking moonlight sifting 
through Aunt Melissa’s trees. Maybe that big 
white seminary wasn’t half as nice as the log 
schoolhouse when you came to find out. And 
245 


246 


EOCKY FORK 


what master could be kinder or know any more 
than Mr. Pitzer? 0 Rocky Fork, how this lit- 
tle heart ached for you! Maybe father would 
get hurt again. Oh, this pain of homesickness 
for what you love! If she could just hug the 
baby one blessed minute, or feel Liza’s foster- 
ing hand tying up the ends of her auburn 
braids ! 

^ ^ Why, my dear ! ’ ’ exclaimed Miss Melissa 
moving back from a closet, ‘‘ what can be the 
matter? Is it possible I hear you crying? ” 

She stooped and put her hand under Blue- 
bell’s chin. The child smeared her face vig- 
orously with her palms. 

I guess it’s only some water runnin’ out 
of my eyes,” she said with heroism and a hic- 
cup. 

Miss Melissa seated herself on a sofa and 
drew her charge’s head to her thin shoulder. 

‘‘ You feel lonely. But plenty of nice little 
girls will come to call on you ; and think ! your 
father and little Roxana will be here soon.” 

Yes’m,” struggled Bluebell, smothering 
down her sobs. This was no way to show 
Irish pluck. 


MISS BIGGAR 


247 


Miss Melissa trembled slightly. 

‘‘ This place seems strange to you. But your 
mother used to play all over this house. She 
sat in this very room and sewed and talked 
with me many an afternoon. ’ ^ 

Bluebell looked about, feeling less repelled. 
Her mother’s presence had touched this and 
that, and in some sense still lingered there for 
her. 

I am growing to be an elderly lady, and 
all my relatives are distant or dead. The 
warmest friendship of my life was formed for 
your mother, and I could not help wanting to 
bring her children into my house, that I might 
do all I can for them.” 

Yes’m,” responded Bluebell, having con- 
quered her sobs and shut them below her 
throat with a large lump laid on their 
heads. 

And I did hope you might be happy, that 
maybe you would want to make your old auntie 
happy — ” 

Oh, Aunt Melissa, you ain’t old! ” 

Old enough to feel very lonely.” 

This touched Bluebell, in her present mood. 


248 


EOCKY FOEK 


more deeply than anything said before. She 
put one arm around Aunt Melissa narrow 
waist ; the lady patted her. 

There, now, well try to be cheerful. I 
presume you are hungry and tired, and the tea- 
bell has been ringing while we were talking. 
When you have something to eat and are rested 
you will feel a great deal better. Eun and 
bathe your face, and then we will go into the 
dining-room.’’ 

In the dining-room a real fairy feast was set 
forth. As for the silver and china. Bluebell 
had never imagined its like. The table was 
round and cosy, and though she sat opposite 
Aunt Melissa, they seemed quite near together. 
The neatest and plumpest of women came in 
to wait on them. This was Maria, who had 
been with Miss Calder a dozen years. Maria 
looked pleased and rosy as she exchanged 
greetings with the lady of the house. 

I hope you found everything right when 
you came in, ma’am. I had some cake in that 
I daren’t leave a minute.” 

Everything seems in excellent order, 
Maria. Were there any letters? ” 


MISS BIGGAR 


249 


‘‘ A good many papers. I put them on the 
libr’y table.’’ 

That was right.” 

Maria went out, and Bluebell went on care- 
fully with her supper. Eating and drinking 
were made beautiful. It was a joy to sip her 
milk — with a little hot tea poured into it as 
a tonic for her spirits, which Miss Calder ap- 
proved of — from a cup so transparent that it 
seemed too strong a breath must blow it away ; 
to watch the tall, shining urn and chased tray, 
and even the carved wooden clock on the wall, 
from which, while Bluebell watched it, there 
suddenly dipped out a little bird, calling, 
‘ ^ Cuckoo ! ’ ’ eight distinct times. 

Before his last note quite ceased, a sharp 
pat of slipper-heels came flying through the 
hall, and a small person appeared at the dining- 
room door. 

Oh, that’s you, is it, Libbie? I was just 
hoping you would come in. ’ ’ 

When did you get home? ” cried Libbie in 
a clear, high voice. 

About a half-hour ago. Is your grand- 
mamma well? ” 


250 


EOCKY FOEK 


^ * She is very well, I thank you. ’ ’ 

Libbie was taking an inventory of the little 
girl opposite Miss Calder. 

Melissa,’’ said Miss Calder, in the formal 
manner which she considered it requisite to 
use even towards children, ‘‘ let me present 
Miss Libbie Biggar. Miss Libbie, my name- 
sake, Melissa Garde.” 

Miss Libbie stepped back, placing the toe of 
her right foot across the heel of her left, and 
made a graceful bow. She did it evidently 
without thought. Her manner was perfectly 
easy. Bluebell struggled to get up, and 
dropped a poor little half-curtsy. 

I hope you are well,” said Miss Biggar. 

Bluebell replied that she was tolerably well. 
This young lady, no older than herself, con- 
fused and humbled her. She admired Miss 
Libbie ’s air and composure, her low-necked 
and short-sleeved white dress, her small slip- 
pers, the ribbon around her waist, and the tiny 
ring on her hand. But her head — it was the 
most wonderful head Bluebell had ever seen. 
Its heavy dark hair was shingled close, “ like 
a boy’s, only cut shorter! ” The etfect was 


MISS BIGGAR 


251 


fine. Bluebell despised her own auburn braids. 
And Miss Libbie had black eyes, a short nose, 
and a few charming dots of freckles sprinkled 
over her altogether piquant face. She came 
towards Miss Calder, and took that lady’s hand 
within her dimpled fingers, and on invitation 
sat down to have a bit of cake. Every motion 
was watched by Doctor Garde’s little girl. 
How hopeless her own bashful awkwardness 
seemed! Wouldn’t Tildy be s ’prised to see 
a little girl act so much like a grown-up lady ! 


CHAPTER XXIII 


A DUCK AMONG SWANS 

A FTER tea was over they went into the 
back parlor ; and here Bluebell noticed for 
the first time a large, shining object standing 
on carved and claw-footed legs. The top was 
partially covered by an embroidered cloth. 
But Miss Lihbie Biggar was perfectly familiar 
with it. She tried to move the front of it, and 
Miss Melissa finally opened a folding lid for 
her, disclosing a long row of brilliant black and 
white ivory keys. 

‘ ‘ Do you play on the piano ! ’ ’ inquired Miss 
Lihbie politely, turning to her new acquaint- 
ance. 

‘‘ Melissa is going to take lessons at once,’^ 
replied Miss Calder for her. 

This, then, was a py-anna! Oh, wonderful 
instrument! While yet voiceless, it threw its 
glamour over Doctor Garde’s little girl. She 
at once resolved to master its harmonies. Some 

252 


A DUCK AMONG SWANS 253 


stray poetic instinct, of which she was half 
ashamed, made her love the irregular tinkle of 
a cow-bell among the hills, the echoing ring of 
a blacksmith ^s hammer; and she had often fol- 
lowed a bird, called at the Rocky Fork a 
‘‘ medder-lark, ’ ’ with her head upturned and 
her breast thrilling, till her unguided feet per- 
haps betrayed her to the run or some mud- 
hole. 

Miss Libbie climbed upon the music-stool, 
ready without invitation to make a display of 
what she had superficially learned. But from 
the instant her fingers touched the key-board, 
one listener sat rapt almost beyond expression. 
The richness of the instrument was wonderful 
to Bluebell. Its harmonies, which the young 
performer could not even hint at, yet suggested 
themselves to the silent child. Miss Libbie ’s 
hands, and the dimple each finger showed at 
its root when lifted to strike a note, seemed 
most admirable. Oh, to be so accomplished! 
The performer played some little march, and 
such various exercises as she could remember. 
While she played, Bluebell was struggling with 
a dumb sense of having been defrauded thus 


254 


EOCKY FORK 


far in her life. She ought not to be so behind 
that little girl. What had gone wrong! Was 
it her own fault! How could she learn music 
at the Rocky Pork? Still, she was conscious 
of grief and shame, and many other unreason- 
able sensations. 

What pieces do you like best! inquired 
Miss Libbie in a general way, wishing to be 
agreeable to this queer little girl. 

Oh, I like them all so much! ” exclaimed 
Bluebell. Then a sob followed her voice. She 
ran to Miss Melissa, and was folded to that 
lady^s shoulder. This spontaneous action 
helped the sore little heart, and she was able 
to stop her crying before it became a freshet. 

‘‘ 0 dear! said Libbie, turning around on 
the music-stool, ‘‘ whaPs the matter! Have 
I done anything! ’’ 

Everything is strange to her,’’ murmured 
Miss Melissa; ‘‘ she has never been away from 
her father before. She must go right to bed, 
and she will feel better in the morning. ’ ’ 

Bluebell tried to smile over her shoulder at 
the caller. 

‘‘ I think it’s the music makes me cry! ” 



« 


The performer played some little march. — Page 253 . 





A DUCK AMONG SWANS 


255 


Libbie descended from the music-stool, evi- 
dently not flattered. 

Because I like it so much! ” stammered 
Doctor Gardens little girl, ashamed of the con- 
fession thus wrung from her. 

Miss Melissa patted the auburn head. 

Indeed! Well, you shall have all the music 
you want, my dear, and before you get through 
you may cry in another key over some difficult 
exercise. ’ ’ 

Bluebell was marched up-stairs, overstrung 
and humiliated by her dehut into her new home. 
Libbie chose to follow, though her grandmoth- 
er’s domestic had been sent in to call her 
home. 

Miss Calder perhaps had a little speech 
ready as she opened the door of the room Blue- 
bell was to occupy. But she merely said with 
a tremor, Your mother often occupied this 
room, Melissa.” 

And again the child felt that invisible pres- 
ence which seemed to open such great vistas to 
her. The room itself was so sumptuous she 
dreaded damaging it. 

Libbie gravely perched herself upon a chair. 


256 


EOCKY FORK 


and watched while Miss Melissa laid out a 
nightgown from BluebelPs trunk which stood 
near the closet door waiting unpacking. 

Doctor Gardens little girl undressed herself 
with tremulous hands and crept humbly into 
the unadorned cotton gown Liza had made. 
Then she said her prayers, and Aunt Melissa 
tucked her under the cover, and reached up to 
turn oif the gas. 

Are you coming down now, Libbie? Your 
grandmamma wants you.” 

Yes’m, in a minute.” 

The little girl in bed thought, She doesn’t 
mind very well, anyhow; ” and this was the 
first debit she found for Miss Libbie Biggar. 

“ Well, don’t keep Melissa awake long to- 
night,” said Miss Calder. She left the gas 
burning and hastened down-stairs, for the 
knocker made a mighty clang on the front 
door, and she knew some neighbor had come 
to welcome her back. 

Miss Biggar sat up and looked at Doctor 
Garde’s little girl, evidently interested in her. 
Bluebell turned her bashful face down on the 
pillow. 


A DUCK AMONG SWANS 257 


‘‘ Are you going to cry again! ’’ inquired 
Miss Biggar. Do you cry all the time! 

I ain’t crying,” responded Bluebell, show- 
ing her face with some asperity. 

Your nose looks all swelled on the end. 
Why don’t you have your hair shingled! ” 

‘‘ I don’t know how,” replied Bluebell, be- 
wildered. 

‘ ‘ Why, just go to a barber, and he ’ll shingle 
it. Grandma let me have mine done if I’d have 
my tooth pulled out so another could grow in. 
How old are you! ” 

Goin’ on nine.” 

Miss Libbie considered. 

‘‘ What makes you say ‘ goin’ on ’! ” 
Bluebell might have replied that it was the 
custom of the country where she came from. 
But she could not explain her provincialisms. 

I don’t know.” 

Is your name Melissa! ” inquired Libbie, 
with a compassionate emphasis. 

Yes, it’s Melissa Garde; but they always 
call me Bluebell.” 

Well. That’s a great deal better than Me- 
lissa. I wouldn’t be called Melissa! ” 


258 


ROCKY FORK 


‘‘ What’s your name? ” 

Elizabeth Biggar. 1 live with my grandma. 
My papa and mamma are both dead. ’ ’ 

“ My mother’s dead.” 

Have you got all her rings and jewelry? ” 
No-o,” replied Bluebell. I don’t believe 
she had any.” 

Libbie gave the speaker a long, compassion- 
ate stare. Then she turned to contemplating 
her own case. 

Oh! 1 have the loveliest things, and a gold 
watch in a satin case, and diamond ear-rings; 
but I have to wait till I’m eighteen years old 
before I can wear them, grandma says. Once 
we had a children’s party and I wore my blue 
silk dress, and grandma let me put on the hand- 
somest locket! I wish I would hurry and be 
eighteen. ’ ’ 

‘‘ That’s very old, isn’t it? ” said Bluebell. 
Yes. I’ll be a young lady then.” 

Doctor Garde’s little girl cast her eyes on 
the wall, and wondered if she would ever be a 
young lady. Teeny Banks was only a young 
woman. She could discern the difference, but 
her convictions were very strong that she could 


A DUCK AMONG SWANS 259 


never become such an ornamental being as 
Miss Libbie Biggar. So, leaving this perplex- 
ity, she turned back for information. 

What do they do at a party? ’’ 

Miss Libbie stared again. 

Who? 

<< Why, the children.’^ 

<< Why, don’t you know? ” 

Bluebell shook her head. She had stayed 
all night ” at Tildy’s, marched, and spoken 
pieces at school, but her experience never com- 
prehended a party. 

Well, didn’t you ever go to a party? ” 
Doctor Garde’s blushing little girl acknowl- 
edged her shortcoming. 

0 my! Why, where did you use to 
live? ” 

‘ ‘ At the Eocky Fork. ’ ’ 

‘‘ And didn’t the children have birthday or 
Christmas parties there? ” 

Another shake of the auburn head. 

Well, that is the queerest thing! ” 

But what do the children do at a party? ” 
<< Why, they do just like grown people at 
their parties,’’ replied Miss Biggar satisfac- 


260 


EOCKY FOEK 


torily; and Bluebell sat up in bed and thought 
it over. 

Only/’ explained the young lady, they 
go in the afternoon instead of evening. When 
my cousin came from Newark” — thrice 
happy Miss Libbie to have a cousin who lived 
in a city! — to visit me, I had a lovely party, 
about twenty girls and ’most as many boys, and 
we had ice-cream at supper.” 

What’s that? ” 

Libbie rose from her chair, walked to the 
bedside, and seriously looked over her inter- 
locutor. 

Vanilla ice-cream. Didn’t you ever eat 
any? ” 

Doctor Garde’s little girl felt that she was 
about to be routed with great slaughter. She 
had alighted upon a new world where the cus- 
toms of the people were all strange to her, and 
it behooved her, she had at last the tact to 
perceive, to be more circumspect than to betray 
her ignorance so openly. 

She changed the subject, and also her com- 
panion’s attitude from the offensive to the de- 
fensive. 


A DUCK AMONG SWANS 261 


Do you go to school? ’’ 

Yes, I go to the seminary.’’ 

‘‘I’m going there too. What do you study? ” 

“ Music and Mental ’Rithmetic; and we 
print, and I’m going to take drawing lessonst” 

“ And what do you read in? ” 

“ The First Reader.” 

“ Ho! ” ejaculated Bluebell; and a shade of 
uneasiness came over Miss Libbie’s face. 

“ What do you read in? ” she inquired. 

‘ ‘ I can read in ’most anything, ’ ’ replied Doc- 
tor Garde’s little girl. “I’m in the Second 
Reader, pretty near to the Third. How far 
have you got in spelling? ” 

Libbie looked mystified. 

“ Can you spell in-com-pr e-hen- si-bil-i-ty? ” 

“ I don’t want to.” 

‘ ‘ I can spell all the big words in the spelling- 
book.” 

This educated creature began to assume 
a formidable aspect in the eyes of Miss Big- 
gar. 

A rap on the door heralded Maria’s head. 

“ Miss Libbie,” said she, “ your grandma 
says for you to come right home this minute. 


262 


EOCKY FORK 


She^s got sometliing nice for you, and it won’t 
keep.” 

‘‘I’m coming now. I know wkat it is. It’s 
ice-cream. You say I’m coming, Maria.” 

Maria withdrew her head. 

“ I live in the very next house,” continued 
Libhie to Bluebell. “You must come and see 
me.” 

“ I will,” promised Bluebell. 

“ I’ll bring some of the girls to call on you.” 

Bluebell did not know what to reply to this 
formidable proposal, so she said nothing. 

Libbie’s hand was on the door-knob; she 
had said good-night and received a response, 
but came running back with a most charming, 
childish impulse. She climbed on the bed and 
dabbed a quick soft kiss on Bluebell’s lips. 
The door banged after her, and her slipper- 
heels clattered like a goat’s feet on the padded 
stairway. 

“ She’s a nice little girl, and she just reads 
in the First Reader, after all,” thought Blue- 
bell, dozing off, and not comprehending that 
this was a beginning in her life of finding won- 
derful images and proving them to be human. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


MISS MELISSA DROPS A FEW HINTS 

TJ^HEN Bluebell waked in the morning she 
beard the cherry-tree whispering in her 
ear, and saw Liza’s dresses hanging on the op- 
posite wall. But the windows were misplaced, 
and everything swam after she got her eyes 
open, until the change in her habitation oc- 
curred to her. Then the Rocky Fork receded 
and this new home came forward with half- 
painful reality. 

Before the child was dressed a tap at the 
door announced Aunt Melissa. Aunt Melissa 
came in, looking delicate in a white trailing 
wrapper, and kissed her namesake good-mom- 
ing. Then she unpacked the trunk, putting 
everything in its place, and pushed the small 
inconvenient thing outside the door for Archi- 
bald to carry up garret. 

She left out Bluebell’s best calico dress, and 
the little girl put it on, feeling that a perpetual 
263 


264 


EOCKY FOEK 


but very serious holiday had come. That dress 
was good enough to wear to Sunday-school at 
the Eocky Fork. Tildy and Teeny ^s best dotted 
robes did not look any better. She liked it 
much better than her white. That white was 
such an unlucky dress. When she had it on she 
felt so extremely dressed that it distracted her 
attention from all the pleasant things in life. 
The first time she wore it she felt her impor- 
tance expanding to the horizon all around; 
Tildy and Teeny in their dotted calicoes were 
mere maids of honor on her royal progress to 
church. But a man came along the deep-rutted 
road in his farm-wagon, and as Bluebell 
stepped out of his way, the wheel sank with a 
chug into a hole filled with mud preserved espe- 
cially for bespattering the proud. Bluebell was 
splashed from head to foot; even her open- 
work stockings shared the eruption. The sad- 
dest part of such a humiliation is, that nobody 
in the least shares the heartbreak of it. 

Teeny said she was sorry, but there was no 
time to stop to scrape the mud off. It would 
dry as they went along. Her manner plainly 
implied that in the case of very little girls like 


A FEW HINTS 


265 


Bluebell, it made no difference at all if they 
looked like frights at church. 

You better run back home,’’ said Tildy, 
holding her parasol-handle across her shoulder, 
much as a woodman carries an axe, though the 
sun was making her wrinkle her freckled nose 
frightfully. Tildy considered that she knew 
the proper poise for parasols, and if the sun 
did not accommodate himself to that, it was his 
fault and not hers. Bluebell stood crying. 

‘‘ You better run back home,” said Tildy 
again, patronizingly. 

‘‘ Won’t you go back with me? ” begged the 
victim. 

But Tildy remembered her stiff-necked and 
conscious demeanor at the outset. Besides, she 
was not spattered, and she wanted to go to 
meeting. She declined going back. Doctor 
Garde’s little girl was smitten with consterna- 
tion that her own familiar friend refused to 
share her affliction. She went crying alone 
through the pine lane. And though the white 
dress came immediately to the wash-tub, still 
that recollection clung to it like a stain, and 
she liked the blue calico much better. It 


266 


BOCKY FORK 


dressed her up/’ but raised no wall of sep- 
aration between her and her fellow-mortals. It 
simply relieved her of all anxiety about the 
appearance of Bluebell Garde, and left her the 
free use of her muscles. The blue dress had 
a broad belt and a very short skirt, a low neck 
and short puffed sleeves. Miss Melissa made 
it more ornamental by a fine mull ruffle around 
the neck. 

Shall I put on my black silk apron too? ” 
inquired Bluebell, as she stood to be hooked up, 
full of desire to bring herself up to her sur- 
roundings. 

“ I don’t think I should,” said Miss Melissa 
gently. Her hands were very soft and cool. 
She unfastened the pig-tails of auburn hair. 

I have some pieces of old blue silk which I 
think we can turn into a very pretty bodice that 
you will like to wear better than an apron. Lib- 
bie Biggar has a pink silk bodice which is very 
becoming. I notice there is very good velvet 
on the apron. With some lace I have, it will 
make you lovely bretelles. ’ ’ 

Bluebell’s head swam. If she could be 
spoiled by clothes. Miss Melissa was in a fair 


A FEW HINTS 


267 


way to spoil her. A seamstress was to come 
that very day to fit the child out, and Miss 
Melissa looked forward with gentle excitement 
to this dressing of a living doll. Blue silk bod- 
ices and bretelles ! But with that ready accept- 
ance of beautiful things as a right which char- 
acterizes all children, and grown people too, 
until their fairy-faith is broken by accumulated 
loads of care, this little girl was able in a few 
moments to contemplate her prospects with 
serenity. 

‘‘ But what are bretelles. Auntie? ” 
Ornamental straps or ladders which little 
girls wear over light dresses. ’ ’ 

With a happy sigh. Bluebell gave up the 
black silk apron; it occurred to her to regret 
she had not worn it more. We do not realize 
that our good things in this world are all tran- 
sitory, and to be enjoyed promptly, each in its 
season. 

They went down-stairs to breakfast. The 
table was laid as exquisitely as the night be- 
fore; in fact, the best things about the house 
seemed to be used every day, without any ref- 
erence to company. 


268 


ROCKY FORK 


‘‘ I am going to give you — here Aunt Me- 
lissa paused in pouring coffee to adjust some- 
thing about the service, and Bluebell waited 
with a bit of buttered roll poised half-way to 
her mouth — a little party, in a few days, to 
introduce you to your little associates.” 

‘ ‘ Me ? ’ ^ said Bluebell, stretching up her thin 
neck and opening her eyes quite wide. 

Yes, my dear.” 

“ I never had a party! The little girl that 
came in last evening. Miss Libbie Biggar, said 
she’d had lots of ’em. I don’t know any 
more about havin’ parties than about playin’ 
music. ’ ’ 

You may begin your music soon. The sem- 
inary vacation lasts some weeks yet. I noticed 
they had the seminary lighted up last evening 
for trustees’ reception. But you need not wait 
until school opens, Melissa, my dear.” 

Miss Calder lifted a bit of steak very deli- 
cately with her fork: the forks were sterling 
silver, and very different from those to which 
this little girl had been accustomed. 

“ You are forgetting to eat with your fork, 
my dear.” 


A FEW HINTS 


269 


Bluebell crimsoned. ‘‘ Wby, Liza always 
told me to eat with my knife ! ’ ’ 

But that is not the custom in good — here. 
I mention it,” said Miss Melissa delicately, 
because your little associates would probably 
notice it; and besides, you want to form your 
manners, donT you, my dear? ” 

Bluebell was so anxious to form her manners 
that she longed for a fairy wand to change 
herself into just what she ought to be. With 
native diffidence, however, she concealed this 
intense desire for perfection, and merely 
nodded her blushing face, saying, ‘‘ Yes, 
ma’am.” 

I notice that you are very observing. If 
you watch others and do as they do, your man- 
ners may be formed easily. And Melissa, my 
dear, ’ ’ — again Auntie paused, and altered the 
arrangement of something on the table with 
her sensitive hands — ‘ ‘ when little boys or 
girls are introduced to you — ” 

‘‘ 0 my! do they introduce little boys in 
Sharon? ” 

‘‘ Why, certainly ; little gentlemen and la- 
dies should be presented to each other as such. 


270 


ROCKY FORK 


I was suggesting, when you are introduced to 
any one in fact, it has become the fashion to 
bow instead of to curtsy. ’ ’ 

Bluebell wondered if she could do anything 
so boyish. But' remembering Miss Libbie Big- 
gar’s model bow, her mind was fired with emu- 
lation. 


CHAPTER XXV 


EVENTS 


a UNDAY came. 

Doctor Carders little girl was richer by 
one music lesson, which Miss Melissa herself 
gave her; and by a blue shirred silk bonnet 
and muslin-gingham dress, as well as long 
black mitts, the like of which she had never 
seen before. Sunday was an important day in 
Sharon. This old Massachusetts colony re- 
tained many Puritan customs. All day the 
various church bells rang — for Sunday-school, 
for forenoon, afternoon and evening services. 
Miss Melissa and Bluebell moved on crowded 
sidewalks on their way to church. The little 
girl was astonished by the architecture which 
she saw around her. The church they entered 
seemed a sublime pile. They ascended a flight 
of broad steps, and passed through a matted 
vestibule into the vastest and whitest place 
Doctor Grarde’s little girl had ever seen. The 
aisles were carpeted, many of the seats were 

271 


272 


EOCKY FOEK 


cushioned, the pulpit was a sumptuous small 
parlor by itself, and music, so full and mighty 
that it made the air shudder with delight, came 
from some invisible place. She followed Miss 
Melissa’s rustling clothes up the central aisle, 
and was placed beside her in one of the most 
comfortably padded pews, with footstools un- 
der foot, and books in the racks. The tremen- 
dous congregation spread on every hand. There 
were no men’s side and women’s side! Fam- 
ilies sat in their own seats. The bald head of 
a father might be seen beside the dancing, bon- 
neted head of his daughter. Everybody seemed 
solemn but exceedingly comfortable ; and when 
the music ceased nothing but a whisper of fans 
could be heard. Through a door at one side of 
the pulpit came a saint-faced man, who as- 
cended and opened the Bible. He looked very 
nice, and not a bit like that Mr. Joel Clark at 
the Eocky Fork who cruelly mortified her one 
Sunday when she ventured to peep between the 
leaves of her book while he was preaching in 
very loud and long-sounding words. Her eye 
had just caught an old English wood-cut — 
possibly one of Bewick’s — when it seemed the 


EVENTS 


273 


world was tumbling about her ears ! She could 
not believe her senses. Mr. Clark was pointing 
his finger at her, and sinking' her in seas of 
shame. 

‘ ‘ That little girl, ’ ’ said he, ^ ‘ who is reading 
there, had better close her book and listen to 
the sermon.’’ 

Then the whole congregation looked at her 
as if they had always known she was a wretch. 
Perintha Pancost and Minerva Ridenour, who 
were just going to look into their books, sat up 
and appeared virtuously wrapped in the dis- 
course, while Mr. Clark went on as if it were 
just right to crush a shrinking child by the 
way. And may be it was right. How did Blue- 
bell know? He was a grown-up, good man, 
and a preacher, and she a little girl, of no ac- 
count except in her relationship to Doctor 
Garde. She held the tears back with heroic 
struggles, but her face burned with hot blood ; 
a mark was set upon her; and whenever Mr. 
Clark came around on the circuit, she could not 
bear to pass under his eye ; and if he made an 
address to the Sunday-school, she cowered down 
behind the tall seats. This preacher in the 


274 


EOCKY FOEK 


Sharon church did not look as if he would point 
out little girls: therefore Bluebell liked him. 
The congregation stood up and turned around 
to sing, and then she saw the source of the 
music: two or three key-boards like a treble 
piano, on which a young man played, and a 
great row of pipes in a mass of woodwork 
which she did not understand. There were 
some people who stood in a class holding sing- 
ing-books, and this singing school was up in a 
high place like a slice of a second story, and 
this second story extended also around the 
sides of the church. 

Miss Libbie Biggar sat in a pew the other 
side of a partition, in the most beautiful cherry 
silk bonnet, tied under her chin with ribbon. 
It was made like BluebelPs, with a slight flare. 
What else Miss Libbie wore, was concealed by 
the high partition. Beside her sat an old lady 
as fair as a lily, in mourning clothes. But that 
her hair was as white as dandelion-down. Blue- 
bell must have believed her young; for no- 
where in the church could be found a smoother, 
more delicate face. An old woman, according 
to BluebelPs observation, was a bent, brown 


EVENTS 


275 


person, wrinkled like a withered apple, like 
Granny Eidenonr. 

The two little girls exchanged glances; then 
the people stood up; they sang out of books 
instead of having their hynms lined two lines 
at a time by the minister, which Bluebell 
thought a great improvement herself. 

Libbie took advantage of this new position 
to lean over the partition and whisper : 

I^m going to call on you to-morrow. We 
went to Newark, so I couldnT come before. 
Orpha and Orrell are coming too. ’ ’ 

Yes,’’ nodded Bluebell in trepidation, ma- 
king signs, for the minister seemed looking 
over people’s heads at them. She wanted to 
ask what made him lay a pile of writing on the 
pulpit beside the Bible. The people suddenly 
kneeled, and Bluebell hurried to drop to her 
footstool as she saw Aunt Melissa do. It was 
all beautiful, and made her feel good ; but Lib- 
bie Biggar reached over the partition to whis- 
per again: 

You’ve got a pretty bonnet.” 

Her grandmother pulled her dress as she 
subsided, and Bluebell could hear her indus- 


276 


BOCKY FOBK 


triously turning over hymn-book leaves. Then 
everybody resumed his seat; and the music 
which had so pleased her glad ear at first, 
began again triumphantly, and the people in 
the class up-stairs sang a very beautiful piece, 
which never afterwards quite left Bluebell’s 
mind. She learned in time to know it as the 
Te Deum. 

There’s Orrell,” whispered Libbie again, 
indicating a flossy-haired child at the side of 
the church. 

‘ ‘ Oh, don ’t I ” begged Bluebell ; ‘ ‘ he 

mightn’t like it,” She cast her eye at the 
pulpit. 

‘‘ Our minister don’t care. I like him. He 
takes tea at our house. His boy whispers and 
squirms all the time. Look at him up there.” 

Bluebell looked at the boy in a front pew, and 
felt thankful to see him twisting very rest- 
lessly. He was a handsome little fellow; but, 
as Mr. Cook would say, not in harmony with 
his environments. 

The sermon began, and Libbie ’s grand- 
mother moved nearer to her. 

I don’t have to come at evening, do you? ” 


EVENTS 


277 


said Libbie to Bluebell, when service was 
over. 

I donT know,” said Bluebell. 

They moved out in different streams of peo- 
ple, and did not see each other again. 

After dinner. Aunt Melissa brought out her 
good books and instructed her namesake. They 
read some poems; and, before the gas was 
lighted, had a long talk, sitting with their arms 
around each other, in which the duties of guar- 
dian and charge were discussed. 

On Monday morning Bluebell practised her 
music lesson while Aunt Melissa was shopping. 
After dinner she put on the muslin-gingham, 
for in this town people frequently wore their 
Sunday clothes on common days! — and sat 
down by her auntie to learn herring-bone stitch. 
The French clock on the mantel ticked : it was 
black marble, with a shepherd leaning across 
the top; the piano stood open; when Bluebell 
had stitched a strip or two, she might practise 
again. Afternoon checker-work moved on the 
porch, and shadows chased each other up and 
down the pillars. Bluebell felt like some grand 
little girl in a story, who had a fairy god- 


278 


EOCKY FOEK 


mother. How pleased father would be to see 
her learning to be such a lady! Probably at 
that moment the scholars in the log school- 
house were just mopping their faces after re- 
cess. What fun they had had ! — but how dif- 
ferent the log school-house was from Aunt Me- 
lissa ’s drawing-room ! Bluebell ’s polish at this 
period began to have a vulgar, varnishy odor. 
She wondered if it was the proper thing to have 
gone to school in a log school-house. Libbie 
Biggar had evidently never done such a thing, 
and that pretty, fluff-haired girl at church 
could not understand how the benches had a 
queer, foreign smell, and Mr. Pitzer let them 
have such good times. Doctor Garde’s little 
girl was noting the differences in externals, 
and the refining influence of beautiful sur- 
roundings ; and in her anxiety to improve, she 
was in danger of forgetting what she owed to 
the country hills. 

The knocker was lifted and came down with 
a boom, ushering in the prettiest and most 
laughable bit of comedy. Miss Libbie Biggar 
introduced her friends Misses Orrell Pratt and 
Orpha Eose, and the three diminutive ladies sat 


EVENTS 


279 


down in large chairs, and acted grown-np. 
They had on all their ornaments, and their 
white dresses were distended with the hoops 
which at that time were coming into vogue. 
Sweet and kis sable in their ribbons and bright 
bonnets, they were a charming study as to man- 
ners. Orrell held her little sunshade in her 
crossed hands, and drooped her eyelids pret- 
tily, as she inquired about Miss Melissa ^s 
health, and delivered her mammals compli- 
ments. Bluebell, at a signal from Miss Calder, 
had put her work out of hands, and she too 
sat up, trying to reflect as faithfully as a mir- 
ror these pinks and patterns of juvenile so- 
ciety. 

Miss Orpha had difficulty with the small wire 
framework, known as a skeleton, which sur- 
rounded her person, but she managed it with 
a great deal of tact. 

How do you like Sharon? inquired 
Miss Biggar, as if she had never done so 
rude a thing as to talk across partitions in 
church. 

‘‘Oh, I think it^s beautiful!’’ exclaimed 
Bluebell, with immediate consciousness that 


280 


EOCKY FOEK 


enthusiasm was out of place in the presence 
of such well-balanced ladies. 

‘‘ Where did you live before you came 
here? ’’ inquired Miss Orpha. 

Bluebell blushed! When she was older she 
blushed to remember that she blushed. But 
these girls seemed so finished, and she was so 
little in accord with their past, that her begin- 
nings looked raw and humble. 

‘‘ It was a very hilly place called the Eocky 
Fork.” 

‘‘ There are a great many hills here,” re- 
marked Miss Or r ell. 

Yes; they are very pretty.” 

BluebelFs nerves twitched, she was on such 
a strain of propriety. 

If the conversation flagged, the young ladies 
sat looking at each other and their young host- 
ess, or Miss Calder, with calm, unchildlike non- 
chalance, which threw Doctor Garde’s little girl 
almost into despair. Her former standard of 
being agreeable was to talk much and fluently ; 
a pause was a breach of politeness, and put 
pins and needles into her flesh. How then 
could she ever hope to attain to such silent self- 


EVENTS 


281 


possession? Afterwards, at school, she discov- 
ered that Orrell was naturallj^ dull, and Orpha 
not half as charming and amiable as first ac- 
quaintance seemed to warrant. She' asked them 
about their dolls without arousing much ma- 
ternal enthusiasm. As they went away, how- 
ever, their voices could be heard in quick chat- 
ter along the street. Timidity had not ruled 
them in the least. They had simply been ma- 
king a proper, dressed-up call, like their mam- 
mas did. 

Then followed, in due course, that great day 
of the party. Bluebell was nearly worn out 
with anticipation before afternoon came. She 
had a new fluify dress of a material called 
tarletan, spread over innumerable skirts and 
a skeleton. Aunt Melissa became her maid, and 
filled the office with the greatest care. The 
little girBs hair was braided loosely and tied 
in two ropes with long satin ribbon. Miss Me- 
lissa was guilty of shoeing her in white satin 
slippers, but they were heelless. This vision 
of little girl paraded up and down before the 
long glass in the parlor, overlooking her thin 
arms, and delighted with her fairy disguise. 


282 


EOCKY FORK 


Promptly at four o ’clock, some ladies and gen- 
tlemen began to arrive, some under the chap- 
eronage of mothers or elder sisters, but the 
majority in twos, or covies like partridges. 
Bluebell, previously instructed, and much awed 
by the good company, did not run to meet her 
future playmates and ask them to go to the 
playhouse, or up-stairs to the garret for a play ; 
even the luxury of a chicken funeral was far 
from her mind. She stood by Aunt Melissa, 
and each little girl and boy, on emerging from 
the dressing-room and entering the parlor, was 
presented to her. There was a dressing-room 
up-stairs for the boys ; the girls took off their 
hats and laid down their parasols in Aunt Me- 
lissa’s room. And they had doting elders who 
stood by and retwisted their curls or adjusted 
the ‘ ‘ set ” of their hoops. 

When everybody had arrived, the parlors 
swam with sweet faces, white full-blown tarle- 
tan flowers, white pants and black jackets. The 
boys had not the ease of the girls : it drew Blue- 
bell ’s heart to them to see their awkward pos- 
tures and attempts at behaving. The boys in- 
tended to come out strong at tea-time. 


EVENTS 


283 


The older people who came along started 
games; the children played ‘‘ Hunt the Slip- 
per/’ and this created some real noise and 
scrambling. Then they played Forfeits ” 
and Consequences; ” and just before supper 
a grown young lady in enormous crinoline sat 
down at the piano and cried, “ Partners for a 
French Four.” 

Immediately certain little couples took their 
places on the floor, and J ohnny Pratt, evidently 
prodded by his sister, stepped up to Blue- 
bell. 

Come on,” said Johnny. 

‘‘ What they going to play? ” 

Coin’ to dance a French Four.” 

But Doctor Grarde’s little girl hung back, 
full of dismay. 

Come on! ” exclaimed Libbie Biggar, it’s 
your party and you have to lead off. Isn’t that 
the way. Miss Ann? ” 

The young lady at the piano turned half way 
around and said she believed it was. She 
looked at Doctor Garde’s disconcerted little 
girl with a kind smile. 

What’s the trouble? ” 


284 


EOCKY FOEK 


Oh, it was dreadful to have the room full of 
children and several irreproachable grown-up 
folks looking at her as if she were some pecul- 
iar savage. 

‘‘ Why don’t you come on? ” cried Libbie 
with an impatient stamp. 

‘‘ But I don’t know how. I sha’n’t mind if 
somebody else plays in my place. ’ ’ 

Somebody else would not do, in the eyes of 
a few sticklers; so Bluebell was pushed and 
huddled through the figures, and merrily 
laughed at. And it seemed the most dreadful 
performance she had ever heard of, and mor- 
tified her sadly. She was consumed with a 
desire to step and act gracefully; the motion 
was exhilarating; but how could she put her 
toe out just so, and remember which hand to 
give every time! The others made precise 
steps with which she was unacquainted, and 
to imitate them in her timid way was to make 
a caricature of herself. 

Aunt Melissa came in from the dining-room 
like a friendly sail to a half-wrecked sailor, and 
made a few smiling excuses for her little friend. 
Then she marshalled the children out, and their 


EVENTS 


285 


guardians looked in at the dining-room door 
to see what a charming company they made. 
Admiring mothers assisted Aunt Melissa in 
serving refreshments, and from the first bis- 
cuit to the last dish of pink ice-cream there 
were exclamations of delight over the table. 

After supper they played in the grounds until 
sunset; other games in the parlors followed; 
and by eight o^clock the last little girl was go- 
ing home saying she had had a lovely time. 

And all these things made a deep impression 
on Doctor Gardens little girl. She felt elated 
notwithstanding the French Four, and kissed 
Aunt Melissa with quite the air of Libbie Big- 
gar. Miss Calder was delighted with the pleas- 
ure she had given. Her own individuality was 
very slight: to be amiable and appear as well 
as the best Sharon people was her standard of 
manners, and she was glad to see her charge 
conforming to them. 

Still, the sap of the woods is strong, and 
will rise in veins which it has nurtured. After 
all this civilized excitement, Bluebell fell 
asleep late, and dreamed a wordless and rhyme- 
less dream which had no beginning or end, but 


286 


EOCKY FOEK 


chimed along, bringing the smell of ferns and 
oak-leaves, sweet-brier and sassafras, and the 
very breath of trees, all around her. Nobody 
sings the full expression of dreams: if this 
dream had been sung, perhaps it would have 
sounded — 

Oh, there was a very funny little pink-eyed man ; 

His hair stood out as only silk of dandelion can ; 

He whistled up the morning, and down the afternoon. 
And slept inside a hollow tree all covered up with moon ; 
His dress was made of moss-hair that greener branches 
studs. 

And fringed around with catkins of palest willow-buds ; 
He drove a sled of oak-leaf with katydids a span — 

Oho ! this world is rosy to a pink-eyed man ! 

His feet he bathed in violets; he tapped the big paw- 
paw. 

And sucked, astride May-apple forks, each apple that 
he saw ; 

Peppermint and pennyroyal, sheep’s-sorrel had he, 
Spicewood and sassafras, and nuts from nutty tree; 

His pockets sagged with dewdrops so bright they shone 
like sparks. 

And he teetered on a grass-blade and threw the cores at 
marks. 

He made a spider spin him a gray hammock on her 
plan, — 

Sing, oh, this world is rosy to a pink-eyed man ! 


EVENTS 


287 


He made a brook-stone chimney within his little garth, 

And piled a heap of fireflies to sparkle on his hearth; 

All overhead were carvings of ancient wormy sort; 

He tied up ants in couples and made them hunt for 
sport ; 

He had a little long-bow of throstle-quill ; for string 

He tore a strip of bat-leather out of a gray bat’s wing; 

And when he shot one June-bug, why, twenty others 
ran, — 

Aha ! this world is rosy to a pink-eyed man ! 

His boat was half a butternut all scooped and polished 
clear ; 

He had a crew of water-skates, and he need only steer ; 

He always wore an acorn-cap for fear his hair might 
burn; 

And he sat upon a toadstool and fanned him with a 
fern; 

Or in an empty bird’s nest he piped whole afternoons; 

The gnats would dance by thousands to hear such merry 
tunes ; 

The long sweet time in honey-drops of amber clearness 
ran, — 

And oh, this world is rosy to a pink-eyed man ! 


CHAPTER XXVI 


MISS biggae’s possessions 

TJ^VERY afternoon the knocker clanged on 
Miss Calder’s door, calls for her protegee 
being plentifully sprinkled among the visits of 
older ladies to her. Doctor Garde’s little girl 
enjoyed driving out to make calls with Aunt 
Melissa. In a town the size of Sharon, in those 
days, calling on your intimate neighbor with 
state and ceremony was a moral duty. The 
afternoons dreamed. Slow embroidering and 
careful hand-sewing were enlivened by rapid 
talk. It was delightful to be roused from a 
drowsy state by a pageant of friends in great 
bravery whose manners accorded with their 
clothes. The people of southern cities will have 
their Mardi gras mummery in spite of fever 
and famine: so, at that period, the ladies of 
large villages found their principal diversion 
in careful toilets and stately calling. 

But the best thing after all at Aunt Melissa’s 
288 


MISS BIGGAR’S POSSESSIONS 289 


was the library. Bluebell was overwhelmed by 
her riches in that. Her own Cat Book paled 
by the side of One Thousand Fairy Tales and 
the Arabian Nights. There were books of 
travels, and piles of Graham^ s Magazine, Sand- 
ford and Merton, Abbott ^s Rollo Boohs, Rob- 
inson Crusoe, whole shelves of poets, immense 
cyclopasdia volumes, and even a few gilt an- 
nuals, books of beauty, etc. Walter Scott and 
Irving inhabited one long shelf with Cooper. 
0 world of books, what a great world thou art, 
and bow large a part of many people’s lives is 
projected into thee ! 

Miss Melissa herself was a gentle student. 
She felt her early relish revived by the fervor 
with which this child seized on the library. She 
directed Bluebell occasionally, hut let her for- 
age at will. 

Doctor Garde’s little girl calculated that this 
feast of books would last until she was quite 
old — almost twelve, in fact. 

One pictured tome, called Shakspeare, hard 
to lift from the shelf, and very queer and hard 
to understand in some parts, had yet a fasci- 
nation. She was delighted to find this the 


290 


EOCKY FORK 


source from which came some of the best 
Fourth Reader pieces: Shylock at the trial; 
Prince Arthur and Hubert. She toiled care- 
fully through both plays, and would not for 
anything have confessed to a grown person that 
she felt real sorry for poor old Shylock, though 
he was bad. It seemed so naughty of his 
daughter to carry otf the ring he prized, — 
the one he had from his wife Leah, — and so 
dreadful for him to lose all his prop: — prop. 
Bluebell considered, must be short for prop- 
erty. But Portia and the caskets were great 
fun, and Antonio a man almost as lovely as 
her own father. She devoutly wished Hubert 
had taken Arthur away off into the country, — 
to some place like the Rocky Fork, — and had 
never told the king he still lived. Wasn’t it 
nice the old bad king got so scared at those 
moons ! He was as bad as the uncle in Babes 
of the Wood, 

But the very loveliest of everything was 
Midsummer Night’s Dream. What could be 
cuter than Puck, or more delicate than Titania ! 
With a natural instinct for pronouncing, the 
little girl got nearly all the names right, though 


MISS BIGGAR^S POSSESSIONS 291 


she branded Theseus as The-ze-us, unconscious 
of the Greek diphthong ^s shortness, and never 
in her life could she alter the charmed sound. 

Plutarch^ s Lives was delicious in spots, but 
rather tough. Shakspeare, on the other hand, 
was never, never tough. She missed old and 
deep meanings intended for adult senses. Ti- 
tania’s infatuation with the weaver was so 
funny that she chuckled heartily. But the finer 
aroma of the plays was never missed once. 

There were some copies of Dickens on the 
shelves too; but she happened on them late, 
for Dickens did not appear an attractive name. 

Libbie Biggar came flying in and found Blue- 
bell with her head supported by her hands and 
a fat volume propped open on the table. 

‘‘ Come on! exclaimed the shingled young 
lady; Miss Calder said you might go to my 
house and stay the afternoon. 

Doctor Garde’s little girl looked up, absent 
and half distressed. 

‘ ‘ Sit down and take off your hat, ’ ’ she mur- 
mured, with a glimmer of polite solicitude. 

‘‘ I sha’n’t stop a minute. What are you 
reading! ” 


292 


EOCKY FOEK 


^ ‘ Oh, it is the nicest story ! Oh, his mother 
was so sweet, and Mr. Murdstone was so mean, 
and so was Miss Murdstone. But I could hug 
Peggotty; she’s as good as Liza was. And I 
almost wish Davy would go away off and visit 
his funny old aunt that flattened her nose 
against the window.” 

Well, come on. I don’t care anything 
about that. You’re always reading. Orpha 
Eose says you went and huddled down in a 
corner with a book when she had you to her 
house to tea.” 

It was Undine,” pleaded Doctor Garde’s 
little girl, turning red. I did want to know 
so badly what became of her. ’ ’ 

I don’t think it’s nice to be reading all the 
time.” 

That settled it. Libbie Biggar, who had 
been carefully brought up from birth, ought 
to know what was nice. Still, Doctor Garde’s 
little girl felt her individuality too strong for 
her in spots. She inwardly decided that it was 
nice, too ! 

‘‘ But I don’t read all the time. I began 
Davy last week, and I’ve only read a little piece. 


MISS BIGGAE’S POSSESSIONS 293 


about little Em’ly and the boat-house and all, 
and where Mr. Murdstone whipped him, and 
Davy bit him — oh, good ! ’ ’ 

.Well, if you^re coming to my house to play 
little dinner, come on. I don’t see any fun in 
just reading and reading and reading.” 

Miss Biggar spoke with a tang of injury; 
and with a similar tang on her part. Bluebell 
marked her place in Davy and hid the book lest 
somebody else might appropriate it. To be 
hauled by the ears all the way from a distant 
country called England, to play even such a 
fine play, was sudden. But there was no ap- 
peal. Doctor Garde’s little girl must always 
be under the dictation of some companion. She 
followed Libbie as obediently as if the latter 
were Tildy, and the stage of action the Rocky 
Fork. How far she would bear dictation the 
dictator never knew until he experimented and 
her swift and complete rebellion apprised him. 
But, after all, what little girl would not for the 
time prefer Libbie Biggar’s playroom to all the 
libraries collected since and including that of 
Ptolemy Philadelphus ? 

It looked like a toy-shop. There were ani- 


294 


ROCKY FORK 


mals standing on wheels to be drawn by a 
string ; animals which nodded their heads 
quite like life; cats that mewed, dogs that 
barked; rabbits and squirrels sitting up in 
plaster-of -Paris immobility; a whole Noah^s 
Ark with a cargo of wooden survivors — Mrs. 
Noah, Mrs. Ham, and Mesdames Shem and 
Japhet in red or blue or yellow or green dresses 
of bright paint, and Noah to the life, looking 
so like the rest of his family that you could 
only distinguish him by his broader hat. As 
for dolls, Greorgiana, who had come in Blue- 
bell’s arms, sat down in despair and felt no- 
body at all ! There was a baby doll in a cradle, 
with real bald head and fat hands, wearing a 
long dress and baby cap. A very much dressed 
mother-doll sat by it in one chair of a satin and 
mahogany parlor set. A negro doll dressed in 
bright calico leaned against the head of the cra- 
dle to signify that she was the most faithful of 
nurses. Various insignificant dolls with mashed 
papier-mache faces lounged about in faded 
finery, or sprawled staring at the ceiling as if 
counting flies. A wax lady as large as Libbie 
could handle — so immense in fact that she 


MISS BIGGAR’S POSSESSIONS 295 


wore a little girPs shoes, and sat in an arm- 
chair. 

Oh, Georgiana ! when thy doting relative felt 
that mighty doll ’s floss and saw her walk across 
the floor, and heard her cry mamma! in- 
stead of the inarticulate noise which was all 
thou couldst make in thy chest, didst thou not 
slide down and roll up thine eyes and decide 
that life was not, after all, worth living ! 

But what were the dolls beside the cooking 
furniture of that magic room! In those days 
every little girl had not a complete toy house- 
hold at her command. Conveniences for cook- 
ing dolls ’ meals were rare, and many a doll sat 
down to a cracker on triangles of broken dishes, 
and thought herself well served. 

But under the black mantel on the brick 
hearth of Libbie Biggar’s playroom stood the 
completest little iron stove, with Liliputian lids, 
pots, pans, skillets, oven, tea-kettle. It was not 
to be looked at, but cooked with. In the left- 
hand corner by the fireplace was a cupboard, 
bearing a tea-set, and not the kind which will 
barely fit your finger with thimbles of cups, 
but large enough to eat with. And a round 


296 


EOCKY FOEK 


table was drawn cosily near it; a table just 
large enough to spread above little girls ^ laps 
when they sat up to it on low chairs. 

What a kingdom to come into! They set 
about kindling a fire in the stove with sticks 
prepared for that purpose, and very soon the 
little monster was roaring away, the pipe send- 
ing up small clouds to the chimney, the tea- 
kettle blowing out steam, and coals of actual 
fire grinning between the steel bars ! 

Mrs. Biggar, the floss-haired grandmamma, 
came in, smiled indulgently at their zest, and 
exhorted them not to set themselves on fire. 
She was going out, and if they wanted any- 
thing they might get it from the kitchen. 
After she was gone, the domestic, probably set 
to watch the fire, looked in once or twice, and 
left some goody each time. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


DINNER IN DOLL-LAND 

"T IBBIE brought up dabs of dough made for 
her special baking, and rolled them out for 
biscuits, with a rolling-pin the size of her mid- 
dle finger, cut them, and baked them in a pan 
on the bottom of the oven. Bluebell cut a po- 
tato into bits and boiled it in a pot. They made 
tea and laid the table. The cook donated pre- 
serves, cake, rice-balls and cold meat: these 
were mere side-dishes, not to be compared with 
what they cooked themselves. 

Georgiana and the imported wax lady were 
placed at the table opposite each other, where 
they half-rolled up their eyes, and refused to 
be a bit sociable. The other dolls were laid in 
a hungry circle with their feet to the table, as 
if to draw in sustenance through the soles. 

The biscuits were burnt ; but, eaten with but- 
ter and preserves, they tasted better than any 
grown-up biscuit was ever known to do; and 
297 


298 


EOCKY FOEK 


though the potatoes came up saltless and with- 
out any dressing, they were too mealy for any- 
thing. And the feasters drained the teapot 
dry. 

The wax ladies were generously helped, and 
ate in an invisible way, though what was before 
them frequently slid toward the head and foot 
of the table, guided by a plump white hand or 
a short brown one. 

Outside, the cicada ^s summer song kept the 
air full of a pleasant monotone. Scarcely a 
breeze stirred. The afternoon was so slum- 
brous one could pretend or make believe al- 
most anything. Occasionally a passer ^s foot 
sounded on the brick pavement. Doctor Garde ’s 
little girl, who sat in range of the street, often 
turned from the interest in hand to look, with 
the expectation that Someone was coming from 
Somewhere to her. Not exactly a nabob, or 
an elephant, or a fairy in gauze wings; but 
some herald from the wonderful future into 
which she seemed to be entering. 

Miss Libbie Biggar’s fancy reared itself only 
on substantial foundations. 

Mrs. Garde,’’ she observed, leaning for- 


DINNER IN DOLL -LAND 


299 


ward to fix her bead-black eyes on the shrink- 
ing Georgiana, ‘ ^ your daughter looks as if she 
had the mumps on one side- of her face. I had 
the mumps once, and made grandma give me 
some pickle, and it hurt — oh, you can^t think 
how it hurt me ! Mrs. Garde, if your daughter 
has the mumps, you shouldn’t brought her into 
my large family.” 

Oh, Mrs. Biggar, it isn’t mumps at all. 
She got too near the fire once when she was 
crying very hard, and her cheek began to run 
down with the tears, and forgot to run back. 
Mrs. Biggar, does your daughter take music- 
lessons? ” 

0 dear, yes! She can play the Battle of 
Prague clear through without looking at her 
notes.” 

1 s’pose you send her to the seminary to 
school? ” 

Yes; but her health will not allow her to 
be confined too much.” Mrs. Biggar was quo- 
ting from her seniors. 

I am going to send my daughter to the 
seminary. She loves to go to school. Her 
health is very stout. I will have to hold her 


300 


EOCKY FOEK 


back instead of pushing her ahead. Mrs. 
Garde also was quoting from her seniors. 

Won^t you have something more, Mrs. 
Garde? ’’ 

‘‘ No, thank you, Mrs. Biggar.^’ 

“ Children will any of you be helped to 
something more? ’’ 

The prostrate dolls, who camped with their 
heels to the repast, and were supposed to be 
seated in a rosy circle around the general table, 
all responded in different tones that they didnT 
want any more, thank you. So the ladies cere- 
moniously rose. 

Mrs. Biggar led the way to the parlor-set. 
All the dolls, except the wax ones and the 
blackamoor, were sent out-doors to play in a 
corner, but told they could not go on the side- 
walk. The colored doll was directed to clear 
the dinner away, which she industriously did 
by leaning on her stomach across the table. 
The fire had gone down to white ashes in the 
stove. 

Mrs. Biggar invited Mrs. Garde to take a 
seat upon the sofa. But as the sofa was only 
a little too large for Mrs. Garde to put in her 


DINNER IN DOLL -LAND 


301 


pocket, that lady only pretended she sat upon 
it, while her real and subs^ntial support was 
the ingrain carpet. 

My daughter will play on the piano for 
you,’’ observed the hostess. ‘‘ You ought to 
say you’d be delighted.” 

I’d be delighted, Mrs. Biggar.’^ 

This is the piano.” 

Mrs. Garde could see no key-board. And it 
stood square and boxlike without legs : a small 
dark polished case. Even when the tall wax 
doll was prevailed upon to favor them, she did 
not open the instrument. Her mamma applied 
a key to it ; but a vast amount of coaxing was 
necessary to overcome the young lady’s reluc- 
tance. 

Come, my dear, give us some music,” said 
Mrs. Biggar briskly. 

Mamma,” replied a voice much thinner, 
but in other respects strangely like the mater- 
nal tones, ‘‘ Don’t ask me. You know I don’t 
play.” 

‘‘ You urge her,” suggested Mrs. Biggar to 
the guest. 

iWhat’ll I say? 


302 


EOCKY FOEK 


Wliy, you say, ^ Oh do,’ and ‘ Now don’t 
disappoint us,’ and ‘ You play so well,’ just as 
big folks do when a young lady acts that way.” 

Oh, do play. Miss Biggar,” pressed Mrs. 
Garde, now don’t disappoint us; you do play 
so well ! ’ ’ 

Mrs. Garde,” responded the thin voice, 
though that wax doll sat gazing serenely for- 
ward, and never so much as wagged a curl, 
‘‘please excuse me: I can’t play a bit, and 
my throat is so sore I don’t know what to do ! ” 
“ Now you know you can play ever so many 
pieces right straight along without stopping,” 
said Mrs. Biggar reproachfully. 

‘ ‘ Oh, do ! ” chimed Mrs. Garde. Her mind 
flashed back to the time when pianos were an 
unseen mystery to her and she wanted to play 
on one so badly that a piece of sheet-iron bind- 
ing sticking from a box became a make-believe 
piano, upon which she thumped with rapture. 
But these retrospections were not imparted to 
the Biggar family, and Miss Biggar suddenly 
yielded to pressure, seated herself before, and 
suffered her hands to be laid upon the pol- 
ished box. 


DINNER IN DOLL -LAND 


303 


‘‘Ah! cried Mrs. Garde when the music 

started without visible assistance, “ a ^h! 

How can she do it I What kind of a piano is 
that! ’’ 

“ That’s a music-box, goosie,” replied Lib- 
bie, descending from make-believe for an in- 
stant. “ My grandma brought it to me when 
she went over the ocean. Didn’t you ever see 
one? ” 

“ No, I didn’t.” 

It played Home, Sweet Home, caught its 
breath, played Old Uncle Ned, caught its breath 
again, gave a Tyrolese melody, again clicked, 
played Hail Columbia and stopped. 

“ That’s all,” said Libbie. “ Four tunes.” 

‘ ‘ Play your pieces over. Miss Biggar. ’ ’ 

The music-box was put through its perform- 
ance again. 

“Now that’s enough,” said Libbie deci- 
dedly; “ le’s play something else. Dolls is so 
old.” 

“We might go out and run.” 

“ No, I don’t want to do that.” 

“ There’s somebody knocked at the door.” 

“It’s just our cook. — What you want? ” 


304 


EOCKY FOEK 


Miss Calder’s sent for tlie little girl that’s 
playing with yon.” 

For me? ” Bluebell ran and opened the 
door. 

‘‘Yes; Archie’s down-stairs and says she 
wants you.” 

“ I’ve got to go, Libbie.” 

“ That’s mean! ” 

“ He says,” added the messenger, “ that 
somebody’s come to your house.” 


CHAPTER XXVm 


SOMEBODY ABEIVES 

A ECHIE was standing at the foot of the 
stairs. Bluebell thought him a most 
agreeable man. He always treated her with 
deferential indulgence. 

Did Aunt Melissa send for me? cried 
Bluebell, running down-stairs with Georgiana 
on her shoulder. 

Yes, ma’am, she did.” 

And who’s come, Archie? Oh, is it father 
and the baby? ” 

‘ ‘ It is a very fine gentleman, and a little girl 
considerable smaller than you.” 

‘‘ Good-by, Libbie. My father’s come! ” 

Doctor Garde’s little girl made rapid prog- 
ress to the gate which united Mrs. Biggar’s 
and Miss Calder’s grounds. Archie kept at 
her heels. 

‘‘ Did they just get there, Archie? 

805 


306 


ROCKY FORK 


Just a minute ago. And besides the gen- 
tleman and little girl there was ’ ^ — 

Oh, it’s Liza! Liza’s come too! It was 
Liza’s house where we used to live, you know.” 

‘‘No, there wasn’t any lady.” 

“ Then it’s somebody else; and maybe it 
isn’t my father and the baby, either? ” 

She paused in disappointment. 

“ Oh, the gentleman’s your father. I heard 
Miss Calder call him. Mr. Doctor Garde is the 
gentleman’s name,” said Archie, punctiliously. 

Bluebell plunged up the side veranda. But 
here her new manners seized on her. What 
would father say if she ran in and grabbed 
him around the neck! And there was Rocco. 
She had learned enough to be a great pattern 
and example to Rocco. 

The doctor was sunk in a haircloth chair in 
the dim parlor. Roxana sat on Miss Melissa’s 
knee, half afraid of her in this new place which 
imaged its wonders in her swelling black eyes. 

Through the open folding-doors came a cor- 
rect figure in cool muslin gingham; the bare 
brown arms and collar-bones looked natural, 
but the face had a new expression. 


SOMEBODY ABKIVES 


307 


‘‘ Is this Bluebell? ’’ said father, extending 
his hand. 

‘‘ Yes, sir.’’ 

The young lady took his hand and kissed him. 
She did give the silent Eocco an extra squeeze, 
but her back was towards father and the fervor 
was hid from him. She drew her chair quite 
close to him, too, hut in every other respect 
preserved the strictest propriety. 

‘‘ And you rode all the way on horseback 
with the baby,” said Miss Calder in a pleased 
flutter. That must have been charming at 
this season of the year.” 

Yes,” said father. I boxed the mov- 
ables and had them sent by railway. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I am so glad you are here, Maurice. ’ ’ Miss 
Melissa reached for her handkerchief. You 
have no idea how much brighter the house has 
been since I brought Melissa home with me.” 

The doctor looked pleased. He also looked 
faintly disturbed. 

And I am sure you will not regret the 
change in — as to — I mean from a financial 
point of view, for all our friends are prepos- 
sessed in your favor already.” 


308 


EOCKY FORK 


As to that,^^ said the young man, Idl 
have to prove myself able to do something, as 
I did at the Rocky Fork.” 

Yes; and I am sure you will indeed.” 

Papa, how is Liza? ” 

The doctor started, and looked queerly at 
his little girl. 

He said, however, She’s quite well.” 

^ ‘ I am learning to play the piano. ’ ’ 

His little girl made this announcement with 
the exact accent and expression of Miss Libbie 
Biggar. 

Are you? ” 

Yes, sir.” 

He rubbed a finger across his forehead and 
looked at Miss Melissa. The delicate lady 
smiled. 

Don’t you think she has improved very 
much? ” 

Ye-es,” said the doctor, certainly.” 

He looked at his little girl. 

‘‘ You may entertain your father awhile if 
he will excuse me, Melissa,” said Miss Calder, 
putting Rocco down. ‘‘ I want to have a few 
changes made about tea. And if you want to 


SOMEBODY AEEIVES 


309 


go to your room, Maurice, Melissa knows where 
it is.’’ 

So Aunt Melissa went out, and Bluebell 
longed so much to tangle and squeeze Eoxana 
that she was fain at least to draw her seat 
beside Miss Calderas vacant arm-chair, into 
which the baby had mounted on all fours and 
wiggled about into a sitting posture. 

Are you glad to see B’uebell, Eocco! 

‘ ‘ Uh — uuh, ’ ’ responded Eoxana, still try- 
ing to take her bearings in these strange 
waters. 

‘‘You mustn’t say that — it isn’t polite,” 
said Bluebell, shaking her head. 

Father’s square, serious face set itself to 
study her. His clothes looked plain compared 
to the clothes she had seen gentlemen wear in 
Sharon. They really had a woodsman look. 
But who could see father’s resolute chin over 
his black neckcloth and not instinctively love 
him? His little girl did not state the matter 
in these words. Her impressions were instan- 
taneous and languageless. The baby did look 
so funny, too. Bluebell wished one of her new 
dresses was small enough for the little sister. 


310 


EOCKY FOEK 


It was only that she did not want them to be 
behind herself in advantages. 

‘ ^ Have you been real well, papa 1 ’ ’ 

That isn’t polite,” said father slowly. 

His little girl turned red. She was beginning 
to think his steady look meant disapproval, 
after all, when she had tried so hard to learn 
deportment. 

What! To ask if you have been well? ” 
To call me ‘ papa ’ when you know I want 
to be called ‘ father.’ ” 

Bluebell’s face and ears tingled. 

Libbie Biggar always says papa and 
mamma when she talks about her father and 
mother. They’re dead.” 

‘ ^ Who ’s Libbie Biggar ? ’ ’ 

Oh, she is such a nice little girl! She lives 
next door, and has the most toys you ever saw. 
A little stove and dolls and dishes, and a music- 
box that plays four tunes.” 

Ho you like her better than you do Tildy? ” 
“ I don’t believe I do. But she has such 
pretty manners, and she is so ladylike ! ’ ’ 
Father smiled. 

Her grandma is very good to her. And 


SOMEBODY AERIVES 


311 


there are lots of other little girls. I had a 
party. ’ ’ 

I’m afraid Miss Melissa has been spoiling 
you. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Oh, no ! She wanted me to get acquainted. 
Some of them wore beautiful dresses. We had 
ice-cream. Do you know what ice-cream is, 
father? ” 

‘‘ I have tasted it.” 

Well, we had ice-cream. And Libbie Big- 
gar just stamped her foot because I didn’t want 
to dance a French Four. I didn’t know how.” 

She must have pretty manners,” said 
father. 

Bluebell colored again. 

Oh, she has. She knows how to do so much 
better than I do.” 

Come here,” said father, extending his 
hands. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


DOCTOR garde’s LITTLE GIRL 

X)LUEBELL approached father’s knee with 
her heart swelling. 

‘‘ Where’s my little girl? ” said he. 

His long light locks and serions face seemed 
to hang on the outer surface of her tears. The 
tears were filling her eyes so fast; she strug- 
gled to hold them still, but a splash came down 
on one of the hands with which he was holding 
her waist. 

Why, I’m here! ” 

‘‘ I don’t seem to find you.” 

<< Why, father, I don’t know what you 
mean! ” 

The cry was under full headway now. 
Her figure quaked. She groped piteously for 
her handkerchief, her eyes held in a 
charmed gaze by his. He drew her upon 
his knee. At that Roxana descended from 


312 


DOCTOR GARDENS LITTLE GIRL 313 


her position and claimed a right on the 
other knee. 

Sitting opposite her afflicted sister, she 
stroked the muslin gingham dress. 

DonT Vy, Bluebell. I^ve turn to your 
house.’’ 

I would like to have my little girl stay a 
little girl,” said father, until Nature turns 
her into a woman. I don’t say I am altogether 
right. ’ ’ 

He paused, conscious that a child will accept 
its elder’s dictum without question, and be- 
lieve a thing to be unalterably good or 
evil, according to the decision of the adult 
who happens to be over it in authority. 

But I don’t like young ladies in short 
clothes.” 

I thought you’d be pleased to see me learn- 
ing fine manners,” wailed Bluebell. 

Don't t’y,” begged Rocco, puckering in 
sympathy. 

‘ ‘ Fine manners are very nice, ’ ’ said the doc- 
tor. “ But you seem to be imitating somebody 
else. I can’t think it is a good thing to form 
yourself after other people. I may be wrong; 


314 


EOCKY FORK 


but I like to see everybody live out bis own 
nature. ^ ^ 

Don’t you want me to learn to be a little 
lady? ” 

Father looked perplexed. 

I want you to learn everything which goes 
to make up a finished woman. Yes, I want you 
to be a lady, but ’ ’ — with a pathetic tone in 
his voice which had vibrated only once or twice 
in her life-time — ‘‘I wouldn’t give my honest, 
simple-hearted little girl for all the fine airs 
and graces in the world. ’ ’ 

Bluebell hugged him around the neck. 

That’s all I mean. Perhaps there’s a bet- 
ter way to bring up girls. ’ ’ 

Father, I just want to be your way. And 
I tried to do like the rest, for fear you’d be 
’shamed of me ’side of Libbie and Orrell.” 
The water-flow began to subside. Doctor 
Garde wiped its straggling droppings away 
with the hand which had supported his little 
girl. Then she leaned on his shoulder, nearer 
than she had ever been, and the arm was re- 
placed. 

They always lived in Sharon, and I thought 


DOCTOR GARDENS LITTLE GIRL 315 


they knew better ’n I did how to behave. Their 
hoops never stick out, and mine just act so 
mean! 

The doctor smiled again. 

Must you wear hoops? 

Oh, yes, indeed, father! I have to wear 
them. Folks would laugh at you on the street 
if you didnT.’’ 

DonT think,’’ continued father carefully, 
that I am finding fault with Miss Calder’s 
kindness, or your trying to improve.” 

I thought you’d think it was nice for me 
to sit up and talk like grown folks. But, father, 
I won’t do it any more. Did anybody come 
with you, father? ” added his little girl in the 
next breath. 

‘‘ Nobody came but Rocco and me.” 

On Bailie? ” 

‘‘ On Bailie.” 

Are Tildy and Teeny well? ” 

She was asking with bright interest now, 
without aping anybody’s manners. 

Ver}^ well. Tildy sent you a letter.” 

Oh, father! Where is it? ” 

I think Liza packed it in my trunk. That’s 


316 


ROCKY FORK 


probably at Newark with the other bag- 
gage.’' 

Bluebell resigned herself to waiting with a 
deep sigh. 

Did they all go to g’ogr’phy school? ” 

I believe so. The geography school is 
out.” 

‘‘ Father, are you glad you came here? ” 

He looked deeply at the two on his knees. 

I shall always be glad if it proves a great 
benefit to my children. ’ ’ 

I have read ever so much. Libbie Biggar 
don’t like reading.” She put her head on one 
side and blushed. Would you mind — ? ” 
Mind what? ” 

“ Would you mind if I gave you an awful 
hard hug, little father? because I’ve missed 
you so, and couldn’t get along just right with- 
out you. ’ ’ 

It was some time after tea that Archie was 
favored by visitors at the stable, — Bluebell, 
Rocco and Georgiana. 

I want to see her,” said Doctor Garde’s 
little girl. Which is her stall, Archie? ” 
Your father’s mare, ma’am? ” 


DOCTOR GARDENS LITTLE GIRL 317 


‘‘ Yes. And you said somebody else came 
with them. There was nobody but father and 
Rocco.’’ 

There was this very elegant creature, 
ma’am. Here she is in this stall. If you stand 
on the barn floor you can see her across the 
manger.” 

Bluebell took that position with the little sis- 
ter, and then climbed into the manger among 
Bailie’s oats to pat her tremulous nostril. 

Do you know me? ” 

The Arabian’s soft whinny answered her. 

‘ ‘ Oh, Archie, I do think so much of her ! She 
fell off the Narrows all but her fore feet, and 
jumped up again and kept father and me from 
being killed.” 

Archie was duly astonished. He polished 
her satin surface, and declared she was the 
finest piece of horseflesh that ever came into 
the stables. 

Charley and Coaly are fine animals, but 
they are too fat and too lazy. Now this here 
mare is all life ; and look at them ears I ’ ’ 

Oh, Archie, I’m so glad you like her ! She’s 
so kind.” 


318 


EOCKY FOEK 


She’s most genteel,” said Archie. 

Bluebell did not like the word, though it was 
then commonly current. She had heard Aunt 
Melissa use it. She had tried herself to be 
very genteel. 

I wouldn’t say she was genteel, Archie. I 
would just say she was Doctor Garde’s own 
horse; and that’s enough.” 

‘‘ Your father’s a very fine gentleman,” de- 
clared Archie, smiling in his excessive amia- 
bility. ‘‘ And your little sister, she’s quite a 
little lady.” 

‘ ‘ Eocco, ’ ’ said Bluebell to the baby when she 
got her between house and barn among the 
shrubbery, ‘‘ I like you real well, and better ’n 
anybody in the world except father. Old honey- 
dew! ” 


CHAPTER XXX 


TWO LETTERS 

I. — THE ROCKY FORK TO SHARON 

Respected frend, 

i take my pen in hand to let you know i am well and 
hope These few lines Will find you enjoying the same 
blessing . . 

Christine is Wkiten this for me. the (Elders) is all 
ripe do you mind when we plade and Teny married 
them I the goggerfy school is out mr runXels brot his 
Wife which made the big girls feel Bad but Teeny 
sais that aint so . . . 

Printhy pancost she got the most Headmarks so she 
got the prize Teeny got the prize in Spelin in the big 
class I We marched the last day and i spoke mary had 
a little Lamb there was 6 dialogues. 

If you Love me as i love 
you no nife can cut our love 
into. 


jo hall is Well and sends his re Specks. . When are you 
coming back Eliza is Lonesome . . i am learning to 
write but cant make no out yet. . . mr pitzer give a 
treat the last Day we got three sticks of Candy apiece 
319 


320 


ROCKY FORK 


The big boys did not threaten to Lock him out he done 
it of his own accord i am going to send you some 

Mountain Tea 

Mother is well uncle Abram is well John Tiggard said 
his long piece the Death of the flowErs Amandy Willey 
sent her Eespecks 

excuse Mistakes Mother has got her weavin Most all 
done . . the Eun has not been up since So no more 
at present Goodbye Matilda Banks. 

Teeny would not wright Half I wanted her to. 
Mother puts this on. I got Ferns pressin in the mem- 
oiry of Florence Kidder, write and Tell us how you 
get on, our sweetins is getting Eipe. don’t you wish 
you was here. 

remember frends as you pass by 
as you are now so once was i 
as I am now So you must be 
Prepare For deth and follow me. 

i thought I would end with some Poetry. 


II. — SHARON TO THE ROCKY FORK 

SHARON THE 21 

SEPTEMBER 

DEAR TILDY 

I HAD TO WAIT TILL I LEARNED TO PRINT. ALL OF 
THEM LEARN TO PRINT AT THE SEMNARY PREPARATORY 
DEPARTMENT. THERE IS A LETTER BOOK BUT THE LET- 


TWO LETTERS 


321 


TERS AINT TO YOU. I THOUT YOUR LETTER WAS VERY 
NICE ; THE MOUNTAIN TEA WAS SO GOOD. ALL THE GIRLS 
WANTED SOME. THERE WAS ELIZABETH BIGGAR AND 
ORRELL PRATT AND ORPA ROSE AND OTHERS TOO NU- 
MEROUS TO MENTION. I STUDDY THE 2nD READER 
SPELLING GEOGRAPHY AND MENTAL ARITHMETIC AND 
PRINTING. I LEARNED HOW TO PUT MARKS IN YOUR 
WRITING. THEY PUT THEM IN BOOKS. TILDY, DID YOU 
KNOW SHYLOCK IS IN SHAKESPEARE? AND GINEVRA IS 
A MAN NAMED MISTER ROGERS. 

AUNT MELISSA IS VERY NICE, SHE MAKES SO MUCH OF 
US, BUT I LOVE LIZA TOO. GIVE MY LOVE TO LIZA. ROX- 
ANA SENDS HER LOVE. SO DOES ALL THE FAMILY. 
THANK YOU FOR THE MOUNTAIN TEA. BALLIE IS WELL. 
FATHER RIDES HER TO SEE SICK FOLKS. WE RIDE IN 
THE CARRIDGE. ROCKKO HAS A NEW WHITE AND A 
NEW PINK AND SOME GINGHAMB DRESSES. 0 TILDY, 
DONT YOU REMEMBER GOING FOR WATER AND BLACKMAN 
AND THE SPELLING AND GETING FERNS AND ALL THE 
GOOD TIMES? AND THE TIME YOU AND ME CHURNED 
PRINTHY PANCOST ! GIVE MY LOVE TO PRINTHY AND 
MANDY WILLEY AND JO HALL AND JOHN TEGARDEN AND 
NERVY RIDEANHOUR AND TEENY AND ALL THE BIG BOYS 
AND GIRLS. GIVE MY LOVE TO MR. PITZER. MY TEACHER 
IS A LADY. TELL HIM I CAN MOST READ THE BEAUTIFUL 
LETTER HE GAVE ME. TILDY, YOU MUST COME AND SEE 
US. LIZA MUST COME. SO MUST YOUR MOTHER AND 
TEENY. I HAVE GOOD TIMES, BUT I DONT FORGET THE 
ELDER DOLLS AND ALL. 

MY HAND IS GETTING TIRED. GIVE MY LOVE TO YOUR 


322 


ROCKY FORK 


MOTHER. I LOVE ALL YOU FOLKES AT THE ROCKY FORK. 
TILDY, I AM COMING TO SEE YOU WHEN THEY BRING ME. 
I SPOSE POOR MISS EMILY MANDEVILLE IS WITHERD TO 
DUST. I WISHT YOUD GOT THE PRIZE. 

I WAITED TILL MY HAND GOT RESTED. MY ROOM IS 
PRETTY. IT HAS PICTURES AND A BLUE CARPET. I 
WISHED YOU WAS TO MY PARTY. DONT YOU REMEMBER 
THE BIG STORM, TILDY, WHEN FATHER FETCHED ME 
HOME ? DO THE NARROWS LOOK JUST THE SAME ? THEY 
DONT HAVE SUNDAY' SCHOOL BOOKS LIKE WE DID. 
THESE HAVE NICE STORIES. FLORENCE KIDDER WAS NOT 
A BIT GOOD EXCEPT THE PICTURE. I AM GOING TO PUT 
IN MY PICTURE THAT AUNT MELISSA HAD TAKEN. IT IS 
ON PAPER. IT IS NOT LIKE MY MOTHERS DAGARTYPE. 
THIS KIND IS A NEW KIND. THEY CALL IT PHOTGRAPH. 
I HAVE ONE FOR LIZA TOO. AUNT M WILL SEND IT. 
ROCCO WOULD NOT HOLD STILL. THEY WILL TAKE HERS 
NEXT TIME. MY HAND IS REAL TIRED. GOODBYE. 

BLUEBELL GARDE. 
DR. GARDES LITTLE GIRL. 




























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